Taking Over
by Crooked
Summary: Armada. After Megatron uses Starscream as an experiment, the seeker escapes to Earth and makes a deal with Optimus. Soon Starscream realizes that his new body is empowering and killing him at the same time, even as he attempts to find a cure. [Rated for later chapters]
1. Chapter 1

_Title_: Taking Over

_Summary_: Armada. After Megatron uses Starscream as an experiment, the seeker escapes to Earth and makes a deal with Optimus. Soon SS realizes that his new body is empowering and killing him at the same time, even as he searches for a cure.

_Author's Note_: This is one of the few ideas I've had for Transformers in a long time, and probably either the last or one of the last. I wanted it to be something really nice, and I've already mapped out most of the story, so I know in the end it will be something really beautiful. But, for now, it is quite morbid.

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Transformers. (sad face)

_Chapter 1_: Tourniquet

Starscream felt a chill run down his spinal cords.

Something was wrong at this base. Where the frag _was_ everyone? Muttering to himself, Starscream attempted to not be bothered by the fact. It's not like he didn't often stay away from everyone when he worked on his projects—so why did he feel like something bad was going to happen?

For the past three months in human Earth time, Starscream had been hard at work with a new Gatling gun for his oh-so-glorious Decepticon Leader (whose diligent request had been made with an accompanying, gentle reminder that if he didn't complete it and on time, his head would be neatly torn off). For some strange reason, Megatron would conveniently forget his second-in-command could even build such things until he actually needed something to built-for that period of time, he would let Starscream alone. Although the seeker was excluded from missions and would continue to be postponed from getting his _own_ Mini-Con, at least he could have some peace for a period of time. Today, though, seemed different from the others...and then he'd felt the wash of sensation down his back. It almost made his tanks churn in an uneasiness.

For his own benefit, the crimson seeker attempted to relate back to his work, placing his attention on every detail, from the muzzles, to the smooth barrels, to the trigger, to the ejection port. As much as Starscream hated producing something so flawless for someone so undeserving, he couldn't help but put all his effort into it—after all, Starscream knew that, beneath it all, he was an inventor. Had it not been for the war, the seeker would've attended the Academy college based in Iacon and would've been world-renowned. There were so many inventions he wanted to design, so many machines he could've made more efficient.

A dream he thought of often, Starscream also knew it was highly unlikely that _anyone_ was attempting to receive higher education at this point (if the Academy was still even in one piece). Not when they had to consider how to survive the next week. Starscream liked to think that if _he_ was Decepticon Leader, he put the Academy under the Decepticon name, give them funding, and be responsible for some of the finest scientists Cybertron would ever see. Maybe, just maybe, they could even return Cybertron to its once-glorious standing, a powerhouse of a planet and Transformers as a species. Maybe this war would grow unnecessary and he could return to what was really important. At the same time, he knew it was all too far out of his grasp. More than likely, the wretched war would go on forever until Prime and Megatron were the only ones left standing-two heads who were only connected to their sparks by wires as they continued to bite at each other. With that in mind, it was probably easier with the leaders of both factions at a far distance from their weak planet—Megatron even knew that he was on the receiving end back home. Things were not looking bright, and as per usual, he was putting greater pressure on the battalions back home when he knew they couldn't take much more.

Either way, the Decepticons were facing defeat, and Starscream had a feeling that Megatron was growing desperate.

"Starscream."

Slowly, the lieutenant turned to face his industrious superintendent, whose hard scowl did not bode well. Starscream rose from his seated position, while asking, "Yes, _Lord_ Megatron?"

"Come with me. I need your expertise on something," murmured the other, his crimson orbs dark, the way he usually looked when he approached his second-in-command when things were quiet at the base. The statement itself was enough to shake Starscream to his very core. Megatron never wanted his "expertise" on something. Something was definitely going to go wrong today.

"What is it?" wondered Starscream, not moving from his position.

"I'm not asking again, let's go," said the Decepticon, steadily, as though he were talking to a sparkling.

With some reserve, the seeker still had an urge to simply refuse and stand his position, but he also knew that if Megatron was lying, Starscream was going to end up being there no matter what, whether willingly or not.

_Might as well have energy to escape if need be,_ muttered the flier to himself, wandering behind the larger with defensive optics. Why did he feel the need to think those thoughts? Since Megatron punched him in the face one too many times. Maybe he _should_ just escape.

"Hook arrived yesterday," started Megatron, not turning to face the other as he walked along, "late last orn. He's come with a new idea that could quickly turn the tables against Optimus and his feral soldiers. I wanted to see what you thought of it."

"What is it?" repeated Starscream, his insides turning at the thought of Hook. The scientist was also a doctor, excellent in both practices, flawless in his work. At the price of his genius, however, was the accompanying sense of madness that the Decepticon always exhibited. He was considered to be one of Megatron's closest advisers, and the seeker knew exactly why: the two thought practically the same, although the leader was simply better as displaying a "normal" façade.

The biggest difference between the two was the fact that Megatron showed his savagery on the battle, like most Decepticons, but Hook was worse…as a doctor, he could change one's thoughts, turn them into something they weren't…Starscream unfortunately had seen too many results for his liking; although he, too, was a Decepticon, he understood that each Transformer had their specific tactic, something that they exceeded in. While Starscream tried to advance that one tribute, Hook attempted to overcharge them with everything—making them super soldiers, but at the same time sacrificing something in return. Most of the time it was their sanity. Starscream wouldn't care less if it wasn't for the fact his methods were so inefficient; they were good for a few orns, then they began to either turn on each other or simply self destruct.

"You'll see," Megatron responded, offering Starscream a gaze that he found incredibly unsettling. Turning from him, the tank punched in the code numbers to the sealed medical bay, which Starscream then felt the enormous urge to leave. He didn't want to see another experiment. He was sick of seeing the madness.

With a swish, the door opened, only to reveal Hook by himself, head down as he muttered to himself and punched away on a datapad. Starscream mentally sighed with relief, then become confused. There wasn't anything here to look at. On the datapad, perhaps?

Hook glanced up quickly, crimson orbs staring hard at the two. With a huff, he stated, "He's not supposed to be awake, remember?"

"I just didn't want anyone to see us and grow suspicious," muttered Megatron, before turning to Starscream. "_You're_ the experiment."

Starscream could only gasp before something hard collided with the back of his helm, throwing him into a world of darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Wake up. <strong>

_It burns…!_

**You have to wake up, Starscream**.

_My chest…it feels like it's splitting apart!_

**Wake up!**

White, hot light seared through Starscream's vision as he slowly brought to his optics online, the intensity momentarily blinding him as he regained consciousness. With a blink, the seeker painfully turned his head to inspect his surroundings, memories returning to him in a rush. Hook. Megatron. Everything hurt. His processor, his spark, like a million searing needles were stabbing into his armor. As his vision finally adjusted, colors and shapes sharpened. He was in a lab of some sort, the room otherwise darkened besides the bright lights above him. Computers surrounded him with veering lights and pulses, the pain from their noise making Starscream offer a soft groan.

Turning to the left, Starscream gasped upon seeing a gathering of Mini-Cons were on a surgical table across from him, all deactivated, pink energon dripping from their fingertips and the edge of the silver table. Their small bodies seemed to have been dumped there, like metal scraps. The seeker's orbs widened in shock at the horrific sight, the image overly processed in his mind, even as he turned back to look down upon his body.

Starscream's spark jumped in its casing. Metal tubes lined up and down his frame, his armor open and his dark skeleton beneath vulnerable. Needles stood out from his insides, some injecting fluids and others removing them. The most terrifying thing he'd ever seen in the long time he'd lived were the wires and other things intruding his chest, the subtle glow from his spark pulsing. He was open, vulnerable, taken apart. Whatever drugs were coursing through his veins were keeping his emotions from getting out of hand-had he seen that and was sober...he would...

Groaning, Starscream's head fell back against the bed, the seeker attempting to feel his limbs.

**You have to escape. **

_Who are you supposed to be?_

The voices inside his helm didn't bother to answer, but the seeker knew that "they" were right. Starscream clenched his teeth as he seethed over the treachery Megatron just bared, the burning in his tanks and his veins more than from just the physical agony. Like fire, his rage seared through his spark, the machines beside him buzzing and beeping to life. So this is what his second-in-command was worth? A slagging _test_ subject? He realized, now, what he truly meant to his leader. _Nothing but an expense._

Starscream allowed the sense of betrayal and hate to flow through him, offering him the strength to pull himself into a sitting position. Growling, the seeker snatched the tubes from his body and tore them out, purple fluid gushing from their circular endings as he tossed them to the floor. Wires snapped away from him as the furious Decepticon shoved over the computers and flung them aside.

At that moment, Hook appeared through the door, oblivious to the happenings before Starscream rushed up to him, snatching the insane scientist's face and smashing it into the wall, immediately knocking the other out. With a soft growl, the seeker proceeded through the doorway, shutting his spark casing and armor closed as he gimped down the hall, dragging himself out of the base and off this fragging moon before his energy reserves went out.

**Through the wall. **

Lowering his shoulder, the Decepticon surged toward the metal barrier, bursting out through the other side quite effortlessly. Pain and anguish surrounded him, and seemed to give him the strength to escape. To the seeker's surprise, Cyclonus was waiting for him, already setting up for an attack. Starscream clenched his teeth, diving towards the other even before he could finish lifting his arm to fire. For some reason, everyone seemed to be moving so slow…

Either that, or he was moving incredibly fast.

Taking the helicopter's helm, Starscream slammed it into his knee and grappled his arm, tearing the limb away from his body with one motion. Wires and fluids burst from the appendage, splattering against the seeker's frame, and Cyclonus screeched from the shock. Tossing the annoying mech aside, Starscream started running, grateful for the lack of gravity to aid him into flight. Gun shots seared past him, the seeker releasing a note of surprise as he dodged the offending attack.

Firing his thrusters, Starscream leaped from the dusty white ground, the Decepticons below still attempting to thwart the crimson one's escape; like before, however, the shots seemed to be going so slow that he could easily evade them. Starscream thanked Primus for his luck as he blasted away and towards Earth's surface, the tug of gravity drawing him towards the organic globe.

Unfortunately, Starscream realized as his decent begun through Earth's burning atmosphere, that was the _easy_ part.

* * *

><p>Optimus Prime loved the forest.<p>

Organic life to him was fascinating—even more, he enjoyed the structure of nature and its biological results…from the colors, to the smells, to the endless details. And, when it came to the forest, it was the ultimate result of the simplest life forms developing over billions of years to create some of the most monumental developments. It was far more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen at home; or even had a chance to before the war began.

Indeed the mechanical revenues of Cybertron were something to behold as well, but nothing was quite as bountiful as organics. Perhaps it was the fact that it was so quick and capable of mixing, resulting with something new. Each and every day there was something different, more to learn and question, which would be an endless study. Prime took so much pleasure in these small details that he knew putting Autobots' new base in the middle of the Amazon was the right thing to do.

"You never cease to surprise me, boss," muttered Jetfire, tapping away on the coordinator monitor in his large hands. "For being sentimental Autobots, I have to admit, you are definitely the most sentimental."

"Don't tell me that you don't love this planet, too, you tree-hugger," shouted Hot Shot from a distance, attempting to find his way around the enormous vegetation. "How are we going to put a base in the middle of all this stuffy trees and crap?"

"We're putting it underground, of course," responded Optimus, ensuring to be extra careful not to put too much damage to the surrounding area. He wanted it deep underground, too, at least sixty feet. Under a certain depth, the temperature of the planet remained constant, which would in turn save energy, and would deflect any Decepticon surveillance. "It's safer for our equipment, the Mini-Cons and the children as well. We can place wind turbines just on the cliff north of here."

Hotshot smirked. "They'll probably work better if you strap Jetfire to it, turn on his boosters and just let him go round and round!"

"Hey! At least I _have_ boosters! You're so full of hot air it all just comes out your mouth!" Jetfire growled, pointing an offending figure at the other.

Immediately the two began bickering, Optimus happily ignoring the pair's heated insult debate as he approached Red Alert. "Well, what do you think?"

"I found something," muttered the medic, offering his superior the data pad, "back at the base. There's a signature…from a Transformer."

"Can you specify which faction?" asked the commander, quickly taking the pad and immediately noticing the soft hue a few miles out from their headquarters.

"I'm pretty certain it's Decepticon, but I can't be totally sure with this distance," said the other lowly, calmly, as he always did. "What I think is interesting is the fact that he or she is by their self."

"That _is_ interesting," mumbled Optimus as communicated with one of the human satellite's over the area to see if he could get a picture of their subject. The hack successfully went through, as it usually did, and Prime zoomed in as much as he could before his optic bridges lifted with surprise at the revealed subject. Red Alert was just as taken back, the two glancing at each to seek answers from the other.

"Well, might as go see what he wants."

* * *

><p>Starscream's chest echoed with pain, the seeker settling in a near grove to gather himself and to try to relieve some of the tension in his cavity. Since the fight ended on the moon and the Decepticon had escaped, the swelling returned to his torso, making him nauseous as he slowly wandered closer to the Autobot base. Each step seemed to make it worse: the hurt spread through his entire midsection and grew in force the more he exerted himself. It'd grown to the point where he was beginning to quake, and he knew something was clearly wrong.<p>

_What have you done to me, Hook?_

Coughing, Starscream steadied himself on a tree nearby, looking forward to when he could distract himself with those Autobots. An idea came to him, then, and the seeker searched around him for a decent-sized boulder and picking it up.

_I guess I won't be calling myself 'Decepticon' anymore_.

Taking the rock, he reached over to scratch the insignia from his wing, wincing in pain as it ran over the sensitive surface. With a soft growl, he dug in, making energon tears swell in the corner of his optics, a burst of agony erupting through his wing. Snarling, he tossed the boulder away from him, crashing it into a tree and snapping it in half. With a swallow, the temperamental seeker bent over and crossed his arms over his stomach, frustrated and in despair at the same time.

What if the Autobots didn't accept him? He knew what he would do; what he would become. A thief, like a filthy animal as he scrounged to find sources for energon and attempted to figure out a way to get back at Megatron for what he'd done. He would pick those fools off one by one; each in their own disgusting ways. He would take off their own fragging limbs and beat them with them if he had to. Whatever it took to take them down—he would do it.

Even if he became something he hated.

Starscream stood at the sound of voices and the rustling of vegetation to his left, his frame tensing and he looked to a fight. White came through first, Jetfire announcing himself as he stepped through the brush: "Well, look what we have here. And what brings you to this lovely forest, Starscream?"

"Decepticons don't need reasons to do stupid crap," came the second, Hot Shot, as he shoved his way through. Boisterous as always.

Optimus Prime and Red Alert came last, silently making their way through as the Autobot leader's optics calmly fell upon the seeker. Unbiased and unwavering, as usual. Prime didn't hold one prejudicial circuit in his frame. At first, it made Starscream sick that a leader could behave so "benevolently" in a time of war, but he guessed he should be thanking Primus that Optimus wasn't as cold sparked as he could—or should—be.

"Starscream," murmured the commander softly, approaching the Decepticon ahead of the others.

"Nice to see you, too, Prime," muttered Starscream, surprised at the tone of his own voice. It was scratchy, weak, like his voice box had become infected. No doubt it was the lack of energon in his system and whatever Hook had performed on him to put him in this condition.

"Indeed," returned the larger, glancing at the seeker up and down, taking in each detail. "You don't look so well."

"I need to talk to you," murmured the Decepticon as he glanced away, no way able to look at Prime with pride and say that.

"'Talk'? That's cute coming from you guys," laughed Hot Shot as he rolled in optics in exasperation. "I'll need to see that to believe it."

Starscream held his tongue before snipping at the younger, fully understanding why he said such a thing. Starscream wouldn't believe himself if he were in the same stance-but he was crumbling, he could feel it. At any moment, he knew he would collapse from the tightening sensation in his chest, and from the insane amount of nausea that had erupted in his tanks. His head was spinning, making the Decepticon hold onto a nearby tree for support. Something was definitely not right…

"Go ahead and talk, I'm listening," said Prime softly, although he were talking to a youngling.

"I meant alone. One to one," growled Starscream, not interested in humiliating himself anymore than was necessary—especially in front of Hot Shot. He would certainly blow it out of proportion and the seeker definitely didn't need Megatron hearing about anything quite yet.

With a sigh, Optimus proceeded forward, to the surprise of his fellow soldiers, and Starscream gimped towards a thicker portion of the woods where they'd be better concealed. Meanwhile, the sickly sensation was growing and the seeker had to fight the his emergency protocol to succumb to a deep, intense recharge.

_Hopefully Optimus is in a generous mood today._

"Are you injured?" was Prime's first question, examining his weak leg to search for a wound.

"I'm not entirely sure," muttered Starscream and he decided he was far enough after a few minutes of walking. Turning towards the commander, he took a moment to swallow his pride and said quietly, "Megatron betrayed me."

Optimus paused a moment, neither looking surprised nor boastful. "And you're…shocked at this?"

"Well, it's been millions of years since I was first sparked," replied Starscream with a scowl. Then his expression dropped, giving up the effort to fight. He didn't have the drive to compete about Megatron's behavior, and he wasn't interested in having a conversation about it. Instead, he continued, saying, "Hook arrived at the base. I guess he found a way to modify soldiers, and I was the first test subject."

Prime frowned under his faceplates, already coming to the conclusion Starscream was making. How was he not surprised? Megatron was bound to find way to elevate the playing field, and his soldiers were the closest and easiest resources. And if Hook was involved…Optimus understood the horror because he had to live with it before. One of his most personal encounters was Ironhide being captured in a major battle. The Autobots needed to retreat with rescued hostages and the brute soldier was taken by the Decepticons.

When the commander finally retrieved him, Ironhide wasn't even a Transformer anymore. He was simply a machine—morphed so much to become a mindless, insane super soldier for Megatron's bidding. Luckily, some of Ironhide's conscious remained enough that his spark mate, Chromia, was able to break through the madness and reach him. Ratchet's medical work was at its best when they brought him back to the base, but even now he was still recovering from the trauma.

"Do you know what might have been done?" asked Optimus, scanning over his body again and again for clues.

Starscream shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, he could've wrapped me up as a fragging mummy and was ready to throw me into a sarcophagus. Everything's black until I saw Hook come through the door and that's when I grabbed him and threw him against the wall. Then I made my escape."

Prime found himself surprised Starscream would know such knowledge, considering how careless Decepticons were at the planets they stationed themselves on. Perhaps Megatron had him conduct research from the humans' past to find ways on using the planet to his advantage. Optimus blinked, also realizing that Starscream had now just barely escaped from his Decepticon superior. He must've not waited around after discovering himself in a lab. Then…he didn't even realize what he looked like.

There were two distinct factors that Optimus and all his Autobots noticed upon seeing Starscream. The fact he said Hook got a hold of him only answered questions that whirled in his processor when he'd taken a gander at the mech. Optics that had once been gold were now a soft blue, and the fact that pink energon splattered against his body was what Prime assumed he'd been injured. Apparently not.

"So what did you want to talk about with me?" queried the commander, his tone softer now that he understood the Decepticon's circumstances.

Starscream coughed for a moment, an odd movement, making the Autobot curious. The crimson one looked sick for a brief flash, but the mech was able to push the sensation back and his expression became controlled again. Although the Decepticon had been able to handle himself then, there was still a shimmer of fear in his bright, blue orbs. Fear of the unknown virus within.

"I wanted to make a deal with you," began Starscream, opening his palms as though he was trying to physically tell the truth, "I used to be the second-in-command of Megatron's military. As Air Commander, I had access to files I'm sure your hackers have dreamed of. Codes, information, hostage locations, battle formations and maps, you name it. Besides that, I'm an expert flier. I'd be incredibly beneficial considering your only flier is a shuttle, and trust me, they might have power, but they don't have agility. I also have excellent communication skills and I'm pretty proficient with computers. Science and math are probably my most adept studies. As you can see, there were reasons why Megatron kept me around despite my lack of discipline and fighting abilities. I can be—"

Optimus lifted a hand to cut off the seeker, understanding where this was going. Starscream let his hands fall to his side, looking almost fearful of what Prime might say next. "I see you want to join the Autobots, no doubt to get back at Megatron. You have to understand, Starscream, that our cause is much more than to just bring down Megatron. We've come to save the Mini-Cons, to bring peace on Cybertron and wherever we travel. I understand you feel betrayed, angered too, but the millions of years of habits obtained by being a Decepticon is not something you can just forget in mere days. Trust me, it's happened before and I've seen the results."

Starscream quirked up, surprised that anyone had done the same before his time. "Why, what happened?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Optimus sighed, crossing his arms. "Most of them returned to being a Decepticon."

With a frown, the seeker glanced the forest floor, obviously understanding where the leader was coming from. A moment went by before he glanced up once more, saying, "Well, I wanted more than just to offer revenge on Megatron. If I know Hook and Megatron, I know that they've turned me into something truly horrible. As a seeker, I pride myself on my reputation and where I come from, and if it's the last thing I could bear, it's to be something any other than seeker. I want to find a cure. Your medics are renowned, I've brought down your soldiers time after time and they've all kept popping back up, annoying slaggers."

Starscream offered a slight smirk at the comment, Optimus following suit. "Most of that is simply will. You'd be surprised how many Ratchet claimed would never wake up and there they are, still fighting."

"Yes, well, I…" Starscream trailed off, a hand instinctively clinging to his abdomen as a sickly expression fell over his face again. Optimus barely grabbed him before the seeker bent over and choked up, pink energon splattering over the ground. Grappling his arms, the Autobot held the seeker in place as he nearly tumbled over, continuing to vomit.

A hand clung to Optimus' as the crimson one remained in his stooped over position, his entire body trembling from the shock of what had just happened. "Easy there…" murmured Prime, slowly gathering the seeker into his arms to ease him back to his subordinates. Clearly that had been as unsuspecting to Starscream as it had been to Optimus, which made the commander know that he wasn't faking an act. "Just relax, take it slow…"

With smooth movements, the Autobot leader practically carried the seeker towards his comrades, surprised optics falling upon the pair as they arrived. Red Alert was immediately next to them, Starscream attempting to shy away from the doctor's protocols. Optimus held him still, even forcing him to face the medic's prying optics. Normally Prime wouldn't be so demanding, but he became absolute over one's health.

"N-no," rebelled the antsy Decepticon, but the amount of energon that had escaped left him weak and vulnerable to Red Alert's tentative hands.

The pair ignored him, the medic snapping out his normal gauze from a subspace compartment and wiping clean Starscream's faceplates from the mess.

"Sheesh, what'd you say to him, boss?" asked Hot Shot with a quirked optic ridge. "Scared the slag outta him!"

"I would be intimidated if I were the only Decepticon around and have a private chat with the other faction's most powerful Autobot _and_ the bearer of the Matrix," Jetfire quipped, more thoughtful than proud.

"No you wouldn't, you'd be excited just to beat the crap out of them!" returned the younger with a grin at his friend.

"I didn't do anything," Optimus responded softly to his original question, "we'll be taking him into the base. He needs medical attention."

Hot Shot groaned, slacking his shoulders in annoyance. "What are we, a Decepticon nursery now or something? We just take in sick Decepticons and foster them back to health so they can start destroying us again. I like the plan, boss."

"No," corrected Jetfire, lifting a finger in a human gesture, "me and Prime had a conversation with Megatron that we were going to trade Starscream for you. We realized you were too much of an aft bag to be an Autobot anymore."

The young one attempted to make a rebuttal before he understood the harshness of the remark, leaving his mouth agape for a moment before he shut it and huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm just sayin'," he finally muttered, stomping off towards the entrance of the base.

"So, what happened?" Red alert murmured as he helped bring the exhausted Decepticon.

"Hook is what happened," sighed the leader, shaking his head.

The medic remained silent for a moment, pondering, before he responded, "Megatron: 0, Prime: 1."

* * *

><p>AN: So this is the first chapter! I hoped you liked it. Optimus and Megatron are so problematic to write…

*Edit 9/4/13: I beefed up some of the vocabulary and tried to fix as much of the grammatical mistakes as I could. I realized I used "attempted" a lot. Sheesh.

Read and review, please!


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note_: 9/4/13: Looks like I forgot to add anything here! I would like to say thank you to all of those who reviewed on the first chapter. You guys are wonderful!

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Transformers.

_Chapter 2:_ The Autobot Base

Slowly, Starscream woke to find himself laying flat on his back, optics to the ceiling, his limbs immobilized by the electric bindings which held him against the metal berth.

With a gasp, the crimson seeker snapped upright, breaking off the bands and fumbling off the bed, shuffling away from it as quickly as he could. The IV attached to his arm snipped off, toppling the fragile canister over as the aerial Transformer panicked from the sight of where he'd woken up. Trembling, optics darted left and right as the mech took in every detail, the layout, exits and windows. Bright lights hung from the ceiling, casting an ominous glow throughout the overly clean room. The computers which surrounded him, the tubes, the wires, laying on the floor like snakes ready to strike.

_I didn't escape._

In the far corner, the door swished open, a dark blue character entering in. Starscream jumped straight for the Transformer, hand out reached as he caught the smaller one's neck and lifted him against the wall. After a second of straining the medic's neck, the seeker's expression slackened as he realized who exactly he was holding up—Red Alert. With a soft growl, Starscream lowered the other to the comforting floor and released him from his grasp.

Taking a few steps back, Red Alert coughed, rubbing his neck in discomfort before he glanced up at the other. "I probably should've knocked."

"I'm...sorry..." mumbled Starscream, the sense of danger escaping him in exchange for guilt. "I thought I was back…"

"I figured. I didn't think you would wake so soon," murmured the other, glancing at a datapad in his hand before gesturing Starscream to return to the bed. Turning on the lights, Starscream saw that the Autobot medical bay was nothing like the lab at the Decepticon base-things were far too orderly, too clean. Red Alert was meticulous, the seeker noted, and it showed. Nonetheless, much of his equipment was the same and it sent a dreadful shiver down Starscream's back.

"How long was I recharging?" asked the crimson one, acting obediently for the sake of lashing out earlier.

Setting his datapad on the counter next to the surgical bed, he returned, "A few days. Your reserves were so low I was forced to only give you energon in small doses, otherwise your body would've rejected it. I was also forced to give you enormous doses of sedative, because your nightmares continued to wake you up."

"I don't remember any of it," returned Starscream quietly, rubbing the area where the IV had been. It was almost impossible to bear being in this room—the antiseptic smell, potent and raw, the shining lights planted above him that radiated with a soft buzzing, the numerous tools and canisters that lined the bleached walls—it all was overwhelming.

Starscream also feared if Red Alert did anything too risky, the burning instincts would lash out again, but with much deadlier consequences than before. Even now, his hands shook with anticipation, like his body was three steps ahead of his processor, waiting for the time to strike. Swallowing, the seeker watched the medic carefully, each move analyzed as the blue mech prepared a syringe. Nervousness consumed Starscream as his vision focused in on the needle, his spark beating quicker at the thought of the thing prodding and poking him, taking samples to test. A crawling sensation flooded over his metal skin like millions of tiny fragments touching him, like fire, his mind flipping back to the images that bolted themselves into his memories.

"I don't want it," whispered the seeker, fidgeting on the bed.

Red Alert turned to face him, optic ridges lifting in curiosity. Judging the expression on Starscream's face and his fixation on the syringe, Red Alert realized that no doubt if he attempted to gather any of Starscream's fluids, the crimson one would immediately panic. With the fact that he didn't know the extent of Starscream's abilities quite yet, the medic considered it be wise to wait until the fresh trauma in Starscream's mind settled.

Placing the needle on the counter, the blue one grabbed a piece of cloth before approaching the other. "It appears your shock is still new. I was going to take some fluid from you, but I'm going to let you get a little more settled before anything else. How does that sound?"

Starscream nodded as he gingerly watched the medic wrap up the arm that had the IV in it. Starscream observed Red Alert with sharp optics, his surgical fingers sure. For a brief moment, Starscream's vision blurred and darkened, his audio receptors muting as he noticed, with wide optics, that he could see _bright energon_ coursing through the other's veins. Like a web, they traveled up his arms, growing more vivid and thicker as they reached his spark. Starscream blinked once and shook his head, riding himself of the trance. He felt nauseated again.

Red Alert noticed and said, "Are you alright?"

With a swallow, the seeker responded, "I'm sorry…when I woke in the lab at the Decepticon base, so many tubes and wires were hooked up to me, I felt like a pit-slagging computer. When I got off the berth, Hook walked in and I took his face and slammed it into the wall…and I'm afraid I'm might do the same to one of you or the others…"

Pausing, the medic contemplated the new information, wondering what type of programming Hook was implementing into Starscream. Obviously he wanted to make the mech more bloodthirsty, that was for certain. When he had walked through the med bay door...Starscream's expression, his optics...they were like nothing he'd ever seen before. Starscream wasn't the most courageous of mechs, and Red Alert assumed when the seeker awoke, he would've been more frightened than threatened. He'd been wrong-and almost paid for it. Perhaps Starscream's fear had been eradicated? No, there was more. A lot more. "When you caught me earlier, you were growling," said Red Alert, gathering the other's attention.

Locking onto the other's optics, Starscream muttered, "So?"

"So Transformers' voice boxes are not capable of making primitive sounds like that. We buzz, click, twitter, what not, but growling, barking, things of _that_ nature are not in our programming," stated the medic.

"Well then how frag am _I_ doing it?" snapped the seeker, disliking the idea of becoming some savage, primeval animal.

"I haven't figured it out yet. I'm going to need more help from the medics on Cybertron if I'm going to get anywhere in figuring out what happened to you, let alone how to help you find a cure," murmured the other, unfazed by Starscream's temperament.

The response, however, was enough to remove the crimson one from his anger, his expression going lax at the thought of being at the behest of many Autobot medics. What if other symptoms showed up? Things a lot crazier than just growling and his lapse in vision? It might get out of hand, if Starscream wasn't careful…then again, it wasn't like he had much of a choice. These…_instincts_ he had…he couldn't control them. "Optimus told you?" asked Starscream instead.

"He told me certain things, just as he did Jetfire. He and I are his closest advisers here on Earth. If Ratchet and Preceptor arrive, then it will be a different story," said the blue one, and then continued when he saw Starscream's expression, "Don't think he went into detail. He said that Hook arrived and you were the victim of his 'ideas'. Anything else you might've mentioned rested with him."

Starscream scowled, wondering if the Autobot was lying. Perhaps a matter of building his trust—although, he didn't have much of a choice, nor did he see the point. It was their trust he had to build, otherwise he would have no way of killing Megatron. The Autobots were his only solution. Even if he had to deactivate himself, even if he had to go through immeasurable methods of torture, even if he had to sacrifice everything, he would _never_ return to the Decepticons. He would not return just to become a servant, a mindless monster. Slowly maneuvering off the bed, Red Alert gestured to the door. "If you're feeling up to it, there's energon cubes in storage in the next door in the hallway. Optimus said he'd like to see you as well."

"I'm sure he would," muttered the seeker, knowing full well what the Autobot leader intended to talk about. Glancing up from the floor, the seeker stared at the other for a moment, aware he shouldn't leave the room without at least show appreciation for the medic's patience. No doubt if he had choked any other 'bot, they would've lost it on him and thrown him out in a spark beat. "Uh…thanks…for not ridiculing me…" began the larger hesitantly, awkwardly.

Red Alert's facial expression broke into surprise, the first real show of emotion the medic presented. Then, he smiled warmly, saying, "Of course. If you have any problems, you can always come to me, or just to hide out for awhile. Hot Shot and Jetfire can be a little overwhelming sometimes."

"I'll keep that in mind," murmured Starscream as he stepped backwards, moving towards the door. With a quick turn on his heel, the seeker escaped from the bay, tension physically releasing from him when the door closed behind him. Red Alert didn't understand how much he wanted to rip off his arm when he held that syringe…the urge was so intense, he was forced to hold onto his own arm so it wouldn't automatically snap out.

If the Autobots had any intention of conducting tests on him, they were going to have to strap him down for sure, and even then he wasn't certain that could hold him down. _These impulses are so powerful…_

"Starscream."

The tone caught the seeker by surprise, but he already knew who it was. The sight of Optimus Prime was almost relieving; in a tiny corner in Starscream's mind, he fully knew that Prime was his one way to gain any of the Autobots' trust. He was also the strongest barrier he had against the Autobots' ridicule—Starscream understood that, in time, if he could prove himself worthy, no doubt the faction would overall accept him, but at the beginning…it was going to be rough.

"Bright and early, Prime?" muttered the seeker.

"Always. How are you feeling?" asked the commander, his optics relaxed and pleasant.

Starscream snorted, crossing his arms. "Better than yesterday, but it's gotten worse since I woke up." Glancing at the floor, the crimson one continued, "I suppose you want to start learning all of the Decepticon's secrets, I take it?"

"Have you eaten?" Optimus asked, completely ignoring the question.

Taking a gander at the commander, Starscream lifted an optic ridge. "Are you not worried about Megatron?"

There was a pause, and, with a sigh, the large mech responded, "I have been at war with Megatron much longer than I'd like to admit, but we've managed to prevail again and again with and without intelligence from the inside. For now, my biggest concern is your health. If you're going to become one of our warriors, it wouldn't be very ineffective to have you under nourished, or do I stand corrected?"

Starscream stared at the commander for a brief moment, his lips forming into a frown. _Sentimental as always_. Then again, it did aid with the self-esteem. How many times did Starscream return from suicidal missions almost deactivated and Megatron _still_ demanded that the report come first? There had been way too many squad leaders lost that way—and to this day, soldiers continued to be sacrificed. So inefficient. Blue optics turned away, dancing across the floor, searching for something to focus on. "I get your point," muttered the crimson one, "I just didn't feel like consuming anything."

"Just take one cube," said Prime, revealing one from his subspace and handing it to the smaller. "You can take your time with it."

Mentally sighing, the seeker obliged just to get the Autobot to shut up. "I'm still up to talking to you about Decepticon intel," added Starscream, not finding a day sitting around an Autobot base doing nothing to be a fun idea. "And if I know Megatron, he'll be changing as much as he can within the least amount of time because of what I know. Trust me, we'll want to get started as soon as possible."

Optimus Prime took a second to ponder, clearly judging the pros and cons. How did he possibly perform as well as he did on the battlefield when he took so damn long to figure out what he wanted to do? At the same time, that sort of patience might also be the reason why he was so ahead in the war. Megatron had the tendency to run right into whatever he deemed 'appropriate' fighting strategy and throwing all his brute strength in instead of planning and consolidating. Not with Starscream, anyways.

"Are you absolutely positive that you're feeling up to it?" asked the commander.

"Absolutely positively," murmured the seeker, looking forward to when he could get out of this uncomfortable conversation.

"Alright, let's move into the war room," sighed Optimus.

Cycles rolled by, the seeker and commander tucked away in the windowless, bleak 'war room' as the two constantly conversed between each other about Decepticon strategy and battle plans. A holographic map was in the center of the room, allowing Starscream to bring up whatever maps and details were necessary to explain Megatron's tactics. A lot the Autobot could infer on anyways, simply because he'd known the tyrant for so long, but others Optimus was surprised by his approach on certain battles.

"Remember, he has the advantage of seekers," said the crimson one, "he likes to change things up a lot that way. Cyclonus also has a weird effect on the battlefield…Megatron is the type to take advantage of not only of Transformers' abilities, but also of their personalities. He likes to put weak-willed ones up first and then put the psycho ones in the back to fool you."

"I _have_ been duped by that tactic before," muttered Prime as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully while starring at the hologram, "luckily during those times I had Sunstreaker and Sideswipe with me, so we didn't end up receiving too much damage…"

"Those are the red and yellow twins, right?" grumbled Starscream at the thought of that sadistic homicidal Autobot. The red one wasn't as bad, but he had the tendency of being so quick and…gleeful, it drove the seeker crazy when they were fighting. He was certain that, without the war, the pair would've been homeless and jobless.

"Yes, as crazy as they might seem, they do come in handy from time to time," chuckled Optimus while rubbing his chin. Blinking, he glanced at the wall clock and said, "Wow, that's the time already? We've been in here for almost nine cycles. Let's take a break."

"Why?" asked the seeker, knowing that he had nothing to do outside of this. Besides puking, of course, which he felt like he wanted to do right at the moment. The only thing distracting him was the fact he was talking so much and keeping his thoughts away from the growing sensations.

Optimus only ignored him as he went to the door, a flood of light blinding Starscream as he opened it. "I'm parched. Besides, we can continue tomorrow when Jetfire isn't on patrol. He should be back, now that I think about it. Anyways, why don't we get some energon cubes? It might make you feel a bit better."

"Who says I feel bad?" muttered the crimson one with a scowl.

"Your physique. Let's go," stated Prime as he directed the seeker out of the room.

With a huff, Starscream shuffled out, uninterested in arguing with the commander over something he was more than likely to lose. At least with him. The damned Autobot seemed to have the patience of a rock. Besides, he would have to practically be Prime's bitch until there was a way to prove himself worthy to truly join the Autobot ranks.

Suddenly, Red Alert appeared before him, surprising the seeker as he walked right up to the larger with no comments or questions, simply stamping a black, small block on Starscream's chest. It beeped and flashed, making the crimson one dare to ask, "Uh, what is it?"

"A reader. It calculates your inner temperature, circulation, energon pressure, cycle intake capacity and other measurements. It takes a brief moment," murmured the medic as he presented two pills which he was hiding in his other palm, adding, "These will aid in maintaining internal temperature as well as relieve pain. Hopefully it will quell your tanks so at least you can drink some energon."

Starscream stared at the small capsules in the doc's hand, unable to help the grotesque expression which captured his features. He didn't like pills, and for one good reason: when Starscream still was on Cybertron, Hook had given him a 'performance enhancing' drug that was supposed to make him have super soldier-like capabilities. Instead, all it did was make the seeker dry heave for an orn. He ended up sleeping in his bathing room that night—albeit, it was the best recharge he'd ever gotten.

With a mental sigh, the crimson one took the capsules and quickly swallowed them, his tanks churning in discomfort. "Thanks," he muttered.

The 'reader' on his chest then beeped once more, prompting Red Alert to remove it. When he did, Starscream couldn't tell if the information he saw was good or bad. "Your temperature is still very high," he stated, his tone and face neutral, "and your cycle intakes are shallow. Make an effort to take deeper breaths and it'll help lower your internal temperature. How are your tanks since this morning?"

"Progressive," grumbled Starscream, glancing awkwardly at Prime. He didn't want the old fool to know that he'd been feeling like scrap and it had worsened—he knew Optimus would either send him to bed rest or simply refuse to continue conversing about Megatron's tactics. Fortunately, the commander only glanced at him in return, silent as he observed the pair. Red Alert fell quiet, adding and calculating on the reader when his expression turned confused. Starscream didn't like that face. As a matter of fact, the "instincts" from the beginning of the day flared back, like a rush of hot air to the seeker's face. Before saying anything, the medic put the reader back on Starscream's chest, punching a few buttons on it while doing so.

"What's wrong?" Starscream asked, growing more agitated by the moment. Was it _that_ bad he didn't want to upset the seeker? It was his damned body! He was going to find out one way or another!

Prime moved to face the crimson one as well, taking a gander at the reader as Red Alert continued to watch the screen carefully. "Oh dear," he said, optic ridges lifting in surprised.

"Dammit, what's _wrong_?" snarled the seeker as his fists naturally clenched together, his spark beat thudding against its chamber.

"Hold on a second," murmured Red Alert, bending over to read it more carefully.

Growling, the crimson one hurtled himself away from the pair, scowling upon the medic with something fierce. Red Alert merely stared back at him, unfazed by the sudden spike of aggravation, but said, "Your energon pressure is extremely high and growing...which means too much energon is in your system. Your spark needs to beat faster, insinuating protocol for a constant flight or fight mode. If there's too much in a single system, it becomes unbalanced and the mental stability could go awry."

"Well that doesn't explain why I feel like slag," muttered Starscream as he came down from the irritation before.

"Sometimes when you're unhealthy mentally, it'll affect you physically," stated Red Alert.

Sighing, Starscream rolled his optics as he said, "So essentially Megatron made me psycho?"

"These are all theories, I wouldn't know for sure unless we could do more tests. Besides that, it doesn't explain why you're able to maintain a sense of calm as well. You might be angrier, but it doesn't show. Only when you summon the potential to harm someone, and it's not without a verbal warning. Other mechs I've seen with these symptoms are normally constantly seeking a way to release their rage—not just from time to time. Therefore, there _are_ holes," said Red Alert as he approached the seeker again, removing the reader from the glass panel on the other's chest. "It's not a certain conclusion, it'll take time to confirm anything, but it's also a start. To have our highest-ranking medics come and see you, I'm going to provide a portfolio that will convince them you're worth the time. If it sounds deadly enough, I'm certain they'd be willing."

Starscream snorted, shaking his head as he scoffed, "I'm sure one more dead Decepticon won't be a priority."

The medic shook his head. "Deadly in the sense that if what I think is true, then you're much more than just an experiment."

* * *

><p>Jetfire cycled a deep breath as he walked through the Aubot's base doors, feeling renewed and revived after his patrol flight. Although it might've been part of his duty, his sincerely enjoyed it much more than he should. Just as Optimus took pleasure in organic life, the second-in-command shared that same pleasure, despite Jetfire being able to not only see it from the ground, but also from the air. Every single time, it sent a rush through Jetfire as he soared over the endless forest, like an ocean as wave after wave of pine and aspen trees blurred beneath him.<p>

"Enjoyed yourself, I see," muttered Hot Shot as he entered in behind the shuttle, the smaller 'bot scowling as sticks from offending trees and brush jutted out from different parts of his frame.

"I'm sky high," laughed Jetfire. "Looks like you had fun, too."

The youngling turned and glared at his superior, snapping, "Does it _look_ like I had fun? How about next time I take _your_ wings and you can get your jollies from _walking_!"

"Oh, relax. Besides, you better start enjoying it for short time we're here. Since we're moving to the Amazon, it's going to be worse," said Jetfire as he picked a few branches from the soldier's joints. "And there are bugs."

Hot Shot stood straight, twitching at the thought. A few months back the shuttle and the shooter had gotten into a fueled prank-battle, going back and forth with wits as they tried to scare each other to the point of doing all the other's chores. After Hot Shot had presented his latest and greatest prank to Jetfire (and had thought he won after the shuttle disappeared for a week), before he realized that night, while recharging, what Jetfire was _actually_ doing. It was hard to find so many cockroaches that time of year, but the white Autobot had done it.

Proceeding down the hall, Jetfire searched for Optimus as he hummed softly to himself, smiling under his facemask as he relished in the sensations from that morning's flight. It was too bad that there weren't any other fliers at the base, he would _so_ enjoy having a partner to share such feelings with. After all, who _wouldn't_ like the peacefulness the sky offered? All the colors that exploded across the heavens when the sun set made Jetfire's spark burn with an overwhelming sensation.

"Ah, wait!" exclaimed Jetfire to himself, making Hot Shot shoot a surprised glance at his supervisor. "I totally forgot! Starscream joined our party! Ha!"

The younger one stared at the self-realized mech for a moment, one optic ridge raised as he said, "You _just_ remembered? How could you _forget_? Sometimes I wonder what Optimus was thinking when he put you as second command."

"That means I have a flying partner!" continued the shuttle, ignoring the other's insult. "This is awesome!"

"Honestly, I wouldn't get your hopes up," muttered the shooter, "Starscream doesn't seem the social type, if you haven't noticed."

"Well, _I'm_ his superior officer, therefore if I give the order, he has to obey," said Jetfire, wagging a finger in front of Hot Shot's face at his clever idea. "Besides, he won't refuse. He's a flier, like me, which means any opportunity there is to fly, he'll be there."

"Well aren't you the mastermind of all plans? I'm glad to have you as our strategist," responded Hot Shot sarcastically as he watched the other dash down the hall, now with a new objective.

After rounding a few corners, Jetfire was pleased to see that both of the mechs he was looking for were talking together, as well as Red Alert. The shuttle noisily stomped down the hall towards the group, coming up behind Optimus and exclaimed, "What up, everybody? How's everyone doing this fine evening?"

"Jetfire, there you are," said Optimus happily. "How'd the patrol go?"

"Fantastic as usual," responded the other with an enthusiastic tone, bowing slightly at the commander. "How was the war meeting?"

"Megatron never ceases to surprise me," sighed the semi as he shook his head. "However, Starscream's been extremely helpful. I'm glad that we have him around at this point in the war."

Glancing at the source, Starscream was staring at the shuttle as though he'd lost his processor, mouth slightly agape and optics wide. "Well, let's be glad he came at such an opportune time. Which reminds me, my dear seeker, I have your first order as a commanding officer."

The dumbfounded expression on Starscream's face hardened into a defensive gaze, the crimson one crossing his arms as he muttered, "What is it?"

"I'm going on patrol tomorrow morning as well and I'd like you to join me. As we're both fliers, I'd like to show you around the territory to let you get a feel for the area. Should take the whole morning, so get some decent rest," said Jetfire with a nod, optics shining brilliantly with energy.

"Uh…sure," murmured the other, expression dusty with confusion.

Red Alert suddenly handed a reader device to Starscream, saying, "Take this with you, Starscream. It's wireless besides your first read, so you can use it to figure out if you balances get too out of control. If it starts flashing or making noises, come see me immediately."

"Ok," mumbled the seeker in return while looking at the contraption like a bug of some sort.

"And you can always come see one of us if Red Alert isn't present," added Jetfire, "each of us has been trained with a basic understanding of medical needs. Some of us retain it better than others, of course."

Hot Shot whipped around to face him, growling, "Hey! It isn't my job to fix your aft when _you're_ being an idiot! Besides, I thought you were such an _awesome_ flier you didn't _need_ to worry about crashing into a rock face!"

"I am! It was the, uh, rotation of the planet that threw me off. Fall isn't my month, you know," defended Jetfire, once again earning a disbelieving expression from Starscream. "Besides, it was foggy out. I hadn't programmed the water shield into my flight trajectory."

"Suuuuure…" mulled the orange Autobot, rolling his optics. "You're so full of it even Starscream's looking at you like you're mentally incapable. Next time you lie, you should actually _try_."

"I was not lying and Starscream knows very well how that goes, right Starscream?" asked Jetfire, looking to the seeker for help.

The crimson one stared at the pair for a long time, optics wide before he snapped his mouth shut and quietly responded, "Sure."

"See! I win, ha!" exclaimed the white Autobot, pointing as he grinned at the other.

Hot Shot stood up defensively, snapping, "He's only agreeing with you because you _are_ a flier—!"

"Is not!"

"Shut up, both of you!" commanded Red Alert with more intensity than Starscream thought possible. The two immediately dropped their voices, Hot Shot crossing his arms with an annoyed huff, with Jetfire copycatting the move to possibly engage the argument again. Red Alert started talking again, however, before the pair could get at each other's throats again. "Act more professionally. Just because we're far from home base and civilians doesn't mean you can act heinous, especially not now. I understand you're far from just being bored with each other, but in the wise words of Sentinel Prime, '_Deal with it'._"

"Yessir," grumbled Hot Shot, clearly defeated by the third party.

"I think my butthole involuntarily puckered, sir," said Jetfire.

The medic snapped the shuttle's name, but it was too late, as Optimus and the speedster both burst into laughter, leaving Starscream absolutely dumbfounded. Jetfire was notorious for being completely brutal on the battlefield and being able to turn the tables with a simple strategy, and had taken on Megatron single-handendly several times. Yet, here, he seemed nothing than an overgrown sparkling, with a maturity level of a 5 orn-old.

"I mean, yessir," corrected the shuttle with a slight bow to Red Alert.

"Yeah, yeah," muttered the medic with the shake of his head. "Just keep it down, would you?"

"He becomes like Ratchet everyday," whispered Jetfire to his superior, although obviously had no intention to keep the comment quiet.

"I'll take that as a compliment," grumbled Red Alert with the shake of his head.

Suddenly, Starscream turned and walked away from the group, wandering down the hall. The action was unexpected and left the others quiet, Optimus watching the ex-Decepticon disappear through the corridor. It would take a long time for the seeker to adjust-he hoped, _begged_ to the mighty Primus that Starscream would be able to join the Autobots. Too many orns had passed which the crimson one had taken Megatron's abuse; he'd seen it on Cybertron, through space and land battles alike, on various temporary stations on other planets. Starscream might as well have been Megatron's personal punching bag, aside from his second. All his titles-Aerial Commander, Lead Scientist, Lead Inventor, Second-in-Command, they meant nothing when Megatron's respect for the seeker was practically non-existent.

_Perhaps, then,_ Optimus thought, _that is what is necessary to keep Starscream in our ranks._

* * *

><p>AN: Another chapter done, yay! I'm having so much fun with Jetfire and Hot Shot and their bickering. It's like the comedy relief in this story. I'll be picking on Starscream, Optimus and Red Alert later on in the story, so rest assured I haven't forgot about them. The producers in the animation just didn't fuck with any of these robots enough.

**EDIT:** 9/4/13 I made a few more changes to make the story smoother. Hopefully it reads a little better too. :)

Read and review, please!


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note_: I do appreciate everyone's reviews and notes, although I don't get to them. I'm deep into my devArt account, with college and work. So just because I didn't respond to review doesn't mean I didn't read, and doesn't mean I won't get to it. Thanks again for all your constructive criticism and comments!

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Transformers.

_Chapter 3_: Sight

The first thing Starscream saw was the forest.

Black and grey, like a choppy, angry ocean of trees, going on forever and ever. Gravity had no rule over his body as he soared over the mass of vegetation, the sky bleak and sparkless, the mountains black multitudes in the background as he seemed to be dragged through the air by some superior force. An odd, empty feeling clung to his chest, like some terrible weight had been placed upon him without reason or hope to escape it, some forlorn destiny that he never agreed to. Something beyond his touch, beyond his reasoning, beyond whatever emotional attachments to the physical world he'd come to rely on were missing; rather, there was the promise of something greater. Something, he realized, which was far more powerful.

The same voice he heard when he first opened his optics on the Decepticon base resonated in his processor, a soft whisper, like a mother to her sparkling. Starscream felt drawn to the gentle tone, searching for some familiarity in this unknown world. He wanted to cling to normality, to the same hate and pain which had helped him escape from Megatron before. It was the only thing he'd known for such a long time, and didn't know what he could do without it. Like an unbalanced youngling, Starscream struggled to keep close to the voice, as though he was using his boosters for the first time. Meanwhile, the forest continued to race beneath him, the sky a grey blur above him.

The seeker gasped when the incredible force suddenly halted him, placing him in direct sight of Megatron. For a brief moment, Starscream tumbled back as though the Decepticon leader would attack. After a moment, the crimson one realized Megatron couldn't even see him, let alone hurt him. The tank moved as though time had slowed to impossible measures, each lift of his arm, flick of the optics, step upon the ground languid, although his expression was unquestionable. He was coming to _get_ him, coming to claim back what was "his". A slip of fear surged through Starscream's spark at the appearance of the mech, the idea of what would happen when he finally achieved his goal.

**What goal?**

Blinking, the seeker realized that the fear, as quickly as it came, vanished within moments and was instantly replaced with newfound rage. Clenching his teeth, Starscream took a few paces back from the mech, who continued on with his incredibly slow journey, oblivious to his enemy's presence. In the few kilks that he watched Megatron move through the forest, his anger worsened, growing to new heights, powering his resolve to destroy the tyrant.

**He's coming to get you, you better wake up.**

Lunging for the purple mech, claws and fangs bared, Starscream roared.

"**I'LL DESTROY YOU!**" screeched Starscream, even as he sat up from the floor.

In a moment's realization, he was back at the Autobot base, sitting on the ground with four multicolored mechs surrounding him. Each had a surprise expression of their own, Hot Shot holding a medical kit, Jetfire behind him on his knees, while Red Alert and Prime was on either side of him.

"Uh, destroy who?" asked the youngling meekly, stepping back a few paces.

Starscream growled as he pounced to his feet, seeing red as he proceeded towards the exit of the base. He knew exactly where Megatron was—and he intended to meet the dictator face-to-face.

Jetfire tailed after the other flier and took his shoulder, turning the ex-Decepticon towards him. "What's wrong?" he asked, pushing past Starscream's enraged expression, how his optics were a burning white instead of blue. His stance alone was enough to intimidate the sturdiest of mechs; at the same time, Jetfire knew it wasn't really Starscream-it was whatever Hook had implanted in him.

"**Megatron's here**," rumbled the seeker, fangs protruding from his snarl.

"What? How do you know?" continued Hot Shot, even as the others followed out the ex-Decepticon.

Within a second, Starscream had found the exit and burst outside, the cool air of the evening blowing over his hot metal frame. Without responding, the seeker jutted his face in the direction of where the dictator was, his optics seeking the familiar form of black and purple. Voices were yelling at him, ordering him, but his body was only obeying his strict instincts. Fuel was burning through his veins, his processor moving at light speed, his spark almost bursting from its chamber. _I'd give anything._ Through the brush and trees, miles away, he was already running through the nature, every circuit in his frame begging for blood. _I'd give anything to kill you._

All he could see, all he wanted to know was the sensation of crushed metal and wires beneath his hands, the fulfilling feeling of the spark casing shrapnel cutting his hands as he shattered it. He wanted to hear Megatron's cry as he ripped out the very life which the dictator so easily played with others—that they were so willing to give away. As soon as the Decepticon leader was in reach, as soon as the enormous mech was within Starscream's optic field, the seeker reached out and grabbed the helm of Megatron, taking and slamming it against a boulder.

"_**YOU**__!_" roared Starscream.

Two hands tore the seeker off from the leader, tossing him away as Starscream caught himself and slid across the forest floor. Soundwave moved like water as he stepped in a dance-like formation to throw off the other. Growling, the crimson one snapped his jaws in aggravation at the offender, his optics flicking left and right as he observed the configuration.

"Starscream," growled Megatron as he swiped a line of pink energon from his busted lip, "you saw us coming, did you?"

The seeker's cooling systems reacted as he cycled air, his body trying to bring down his internal temperature. Once again, Starscream could "see" the Decepticon's veins of energon. They were like purple blobs as they watched him, in turn, their stances defensive, save for Megatron himself. The thundering of each of their spark beats pounded in Starscream's audio receptors, his optics able to catch the glint of their armor, coupled with the glow of their internal circulatory systems. Soundwave's spark sped up as he suddenly lunged at the seeker, Starscream easily maneuvering away from the Decepticon lieutenant. The sudden peacefulness the seeker was experiencing had never happened before-at least, never when fighting. This calm sensation, this overly confident patience was the same feeling he knew of when he was playing scientist. There was no more fear, no more anticipation...just pure, uninhibited calm.

Bursting from his position, Starscream mimicked the fighting arrangement, each step copying that of Soundwave's. The seeker hurtled kicks and punches as the Decepticon dodged them, portraying what looked like a deadly, melodic waltz. The crimson one watched and waited, anticipating each move by observing how the lieutenant's veins and nerves bent within his frame. While the crimson one's spark slammed frantically against its chamber, energon pushed Starscream harder, made him faster, made his thoughts clearer. Not his bulky form, his wings or his untrained hands could hinder him from a near-perfect fight with Soundwave-and the seeker was almost having _too_ much fun handling the other Decepticon. Finally, Starscream made a damaging hit to the blue mech's chassis, shattering the tape casing which retained his tiny minions. Small shards of glass scattered around the crimson one's optics, his vision flooding with color and light as it returned to normal. Screeching, the communications officer retreated with a single swoop, landing gracefully away from the seeker.

Snarling, Starscream turned back to his original objective, Megatron, who was standing and watching the pair fight. It was as if he was judging two young Decepticons on their hand-to-hand combat; Starscream was sure the Decepticon leader was observing and judging his fighting abilities since his "upgrade". "Quite impressive, Starscream," he murmured thoughtfully, a smirk tightening across his face, "I don't remember the last time you were so focused when fighting with your fists. It seems Hook was right...and imagine all the things you could do if you allowed the good doctor to finish. I hope you had a nice chat with Optimus, too, so he knows what he's up against. Let's return to the base."

"**I'm not going anywhere with you,**" snarled the crimson one, his entire frame, his very core bursting into raw anger as it crawled up his spine and fueled every irrational and hated thought in his processor. Such a fire would never quelled until he felt the sensation of Megatron's energon splatter against his body. "**You took my very identity, Megatron! Now I'll take your** **SPARK!**"

The tyrant scowled, even as he murmured, "Then, we'll have to do this by force."

"Megatron!" Optimus Prime's voice filtered through the forest as he appeared from the brush, lifting up a pistol towards the offending leader. "What do you want?"

"What do you _think_ I want, Prime?" asked Megatron slowly, glancing lowly at the other. "You have something of mine and I'm here to take it back."

Hot Shot appeared thereafter, his Mini-Con already separating from his back, visor over his optics. "I don't think that seeker's too keen on the idea of going back to the Decepticons, being an experiment and all," mentioned the red and yellow Autobot. "But, you know, you can go ahead and give it a shot."

Megatron glanced back at the pacing flier, who's loud, shallow cycling and flaring white-hot orbs stared at him like a predator waiting on the prey to make a move. Megatron stared for a moment into Starscream's optics, the sense of betrayal which rested there, the thirst of the revenge that drove the ex-Decepticon to the edge. The image of a perfect, rage-driven soldier, the first of his kind, to last forever and to be everything a soldier could be. Starscream, within moments, had become a work of art in the Decepticon leader's perception. The crimson one stopped, then, spreading his legs apart as he screeched, making the purple mech flinch from the penetrating sound. Within a mere second, the seeker was upon the dictator, a flat hand stabbing into the other's neck. Megatron grappled the smaller one and ripped him off, throwing him aside as he coughed from the attack.

Cyclonus' sudden appearance distracted Starscream from continuing his assault on Megatron as the chopper pounced on the seeker, although Optimus was right there to pick up the slack. The crimson one slammed the helicopter in the side with a kick, sending him across nature's floor, snapping trees and throwing up dirt. Twisting over, the yellow Decepticon got to his feet again within a moment, but Starscream was already there, grabbing the smaller one by the throat before he slammed him against the ground again and again.

"**YOU'RE A PIT-SLAGGING PUPPET ON A FRAGGING STRING! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE! YOU'RE A SLAGGING WASTE OF **_**SPACE!**_" roared the seeker, before finally throwing him once more, aiming for Megatron. The Decepticon was able to dodge his soldier as the helicopter soared across the forest once more, his fight with Optimus breaking for a brief moment.

Snarling, Starscream dove for the tyrant, like a blur as he fell upon the larger tank. Megatron was prepared for the move, catching the seeker by the throat and arm, capturing him in midair. Starscream roared and thrashed, struggling to break free from his thwarted attempt. Bringing his knee against Megatron's chest, Starscream slammed his other foot down upon Megatron's face, repeating the process until the tank finally let him go. Rolling away, Starscream only had a moment to blink as Megatron snapped out his side cannon, the seeker narrowly avoiding the large blast as he rolled over. The beam of energy incinerated trees, rocks, plants and life, flames bursting and smoke rolling into the sky. Megatron slowly approached Starscream, was was lying face-down on the grass, his hand reaching out to grapple the young seeker by his left thruster. Optimus was suddenly there, his pistol's barrel brushing Megatron's smooth face plates.

Sighing, the grey and purple Decepticon brought his arm back and, glancing at his arch nemesis from the corner of his vision, said, "Is this how we play the game now, Prime?"

"This isn't a game, Megatron. I believe _anyone_ you ask, including your own soldiers, would take this war very seriously," snapped the commander, "and don't forget, every life you ruin, every comrade you back stab _will _come back to haunt you. Starscream's such proof."

The tank laughed, a brutal smile coming over his features as he returned his gaze back to the seeker. With a small growl, the crimson one brought his feet beneath him, crouching and waiting, his steady, white gaze settling on the dictator. "Well, as useless as he might've been, he certainly isn't now. Look at that, Prime, the purest picture of the form of war. He's become quite spectacular, hasn't he? You should be _thanking_ me instead of ridiculing me."

"At what price, Megatron?" murmured Optimus as he squeezed his grip on the pistol. "At what _price_ is it not worth playing Primus anymore? When does the madness stop?"

With a small smile, the Decepticon leader replied, "When I defeat you, Prime."

Starscream growled as he leaped to his right, jumping just as Cyclonus appeared from the brush behind the Autobot commander. The crimson one took off an offending limb of the helicopter and broke it apart, earning a scream. Megatron snapped and grabbed Optimus' hand, the Autobot leader firing his pistol once as the two struggled again. The red and blue Autobot dodged Megatron's cannon just in time, hitting the ground as his pistol bounced away from his frame. Starscream took the yellow Decepticon and chucked him at the offending Decepticon, toppling both to the forest floor.

"**Give up, Megatron, you're not going to win!**" Starscream snarled, picking up the pistol.

At that moment, then, something moved inside of the seeker. It took him by storm, a great force of power that offered a surge of energon to his energetic field. Starscream's T-COG buzzed with life, a blue spike of electricity arcing from his frame. The mechs surrounding him stared with wonder, their optics locked onto the ex-Decepticon and his every move. When the seeker's sparking fingers touched the weapon, it changed. A piece of his red armor bent away by unseen hands, crushing itself against the frame of the weapon as metal crunched and bent, transforming it into a double-barreled shot gun with the very tip pointed at Megatron's helm.

The tyrant's stunned expression molded into a glare as he stared up at his one-time second-in-command, frustration consuming his features for the first time during battle. As much as the Decepticon hated to admit, Starscream's new abilities had been underestimated and they were outnumbered. Hot Shot and Jetfire had taken Soundwave's complete attention, and Cyclonus had once again become crippled in the midst of battle. They needed to regroup and plan again for another strategy…for now, they would have to retreat.

"Hook, take us up," muttered Megatron.

Within a moment, the group had vaporized into thin air, the Autobots left in the wake of the surprising victory. Starscream, however, succumbed into a panicked frenzy as he darted around, yelling frantically, "_**No!**_** NO! Fragging cowards! They can't do that! **_**They can't do that!**_"

The seeker dashed around the area, still in disbelief the group had retreated, rather than fighting, as their battle strategy usually was. Every circuit burning, his spark beating wildly, his thoughts raced around in circles as he searched how to pursue his enemy. Optics blazing white, he searched for anything left, the energon pumping in his systems as it fueled his drive to find something, _anything_. Optimus approached the ex-Decepticon slowly, knowing that making any move too fast would trigger a defensive reaction. Making himself apparent to the seeker, he said, "It's alright, Starscream, this battle wasn't going to decide the outcome of the war as it is. Let's go back and get some rest."

Swiveling around to face the commander, the other barked, "**You don't understand! They need to be destroyed! **_**All **_**of them destroyed! Every battle counts, every enemy destroyed saves one ally! I have to get them! I have to follow!**"

"Starscream—" began Prime, although the seeker was already on a different path.

Everything in Starscream demanded that he find a kill—he couldn't kill the Autobots, and it was driving him to the brink knowing those scum had escaped from his rage. It wouldn't be right to just let it go. He _needed _to feel death on his hands, to feel it surge through his systems in a rush. He'd go insane otherwise; he'd been formatted now to be a murderer, and his instincts were screaming, controlling his arms and his legs and he felt the fangs in his mouth and the energon thirst was going to strangle him—

Jetfire dashed up to Starscream, jumping him from behind and easily taking the seeker to the ground. The shuttle used both hands to compress either arm, just as he did with his legs as he pressed his chest upon Starscream's back to keep him from getting up. Screeching, the crimson one struggled to be released, bucking in attempt to throw the other off him, screaming in a seething rage. Remaining steady, the white Autobot used more of his weight, like a rock on top of the smaller mech. He knew that a seeker's spinal thrusters were very sensitive, as were the exposed wires and internal paneling there. The warmth of his spark and its vibrations would definitely be enough to settle the crazed soldier.

"Hey, calm down," whispered Jetfire, placing his facemask by the seeker's audio receptors. "Relax, it's okay. The battle's over…just relax…"

After a few moments of thrashing about, the smaller finally succumbed to the shuttle's harmonic murmurs, his cooling system shallow and loud underneath his larger counterpart. When Jetfire was certain the other wouldn't attempt to run off, he slowly rose from his position, bringing the crimson one to stand with him.

"Looks like someone needs a nap," quipped Hot Shot as he crossed his arms. Then he noticed the shotgun lying on the ground, optic ridges lifting in surprise as he said, "What's that?"

"That," said Optimus as he bent down to collect his once-pistol, "used to be my sidearm. Somehow Starscream changed it."

The yellow and red Autobot jumped in to inspect, hands brushing along the crafted metal with awe. "Really? He makes our weapons bigger?"

Prime lowered it from his own gaze, sighing, "I guess he does. This might be why Megatron's so persistent to get his Air Commander back."

Smirking, Hot Shot strutted back towards the Autobot base folding his arms behind his back while snickering, "Optimus: 2. Megatron: 0."

* * *

><p>"This is your quarters," said Jetfire softly, opening up a door that lead to a massive berth and a small closet on the right side of it. "Since we don't have that many seekers, or fliers at all for that matter, we usually don't make berths for them."<p>

"Lucky me," muttered Starscream, his voice so raspy after coming down from his murder high, hardly anyone could understand him. Shifting his voice box, he murmured, "I take it we 'fliers' are next to each other?"

"Yeah," replied the shuttle happily with a nod, then pointed across the hall while adding, "And we share that lavatory. Since we found water here on Earth can help clean out our systems really well and fend the buildup of organic material, Optimus put in a plumbing system. There's a shower in there if you get the urge."

The seeker nodded, not wanting to hear the sound of his own pathetic voice again. As far as he was concerned, all he wanted to do was sit in his room and not be bothered by anyone else—Starscream almost knocked out Hot Shot when he bombarded the ex-Decepticon for answers on his "episode". Apparently he'd changed Prime's hand pistol into a human-like shotgun, one of which the commander refused to let anyone else handle. Besides that, there was the fact that he'd matched wits with Soundwave (whom of which Starscream didn't even recall fighting), mimicking his style of fighting and had even wounded the renowned mech. _That_ was something the crimson one never imagine he'd do.

"Hey," said Jetfire gently, earning the seeker's attention. "I figure you've had a pretty rough day, so I'm going to leave you to yourself so you can relax. If there's anything that I can do for you, let me know, okay?"

Nodding once more, Starscream couldn't help but think, _How about my sanity?_ "Thank you," mumbled the crimson one as he glanced at the wall.

He could still see the surprise which brightened Jetfire's features, before his optics warmed with a smile as he responded, "For sure. That's what I'm here for."

"For not letting me go after Megatron," continued the other as he sighed. "I have a feeling things would've gone awry unless you'd stopped me."

The shuttle shrugged, tossing his head to the side as he replied, "Eh, you were on a roll. We all get that way sometimes. I was just glad to see Megatron so fragged off for the first time in a long time. That high pedestal he always likes to look down on everyone from is starting to shrink and he knows it."

With a scowl, Starscream glared at the floor, grumbling, "Well maybe he shouldn't use his soldiers up for experiments."

Jetfire fell silent for a moment, noticing the sting of betrayal that was laced through the statement. Although the Autobot knew wasn't hardly surprised by Megatron's behavior, no doubt Starscream felt like he deserved to be treated better. After all, the shuttle was aware that the seeker had qualities which far surpassed many other mechs, due to having to deal with them in the past. On one too many occasions, Starscream had nearly crumbled the Autobot's computer fire walls, had almost overtaken them with aerial firepower, had even once or twice thwarted the Autobots' chance of defeating Megatron once and for all. If anything, Megatron should be looking to Starscream for guidance, just as Optimus did to his crew, but only saw him as an expendable source. "Well it's definitely come to bite him in the aft. I wouldn't want someone like you against me if I were in his helm."

For the first time, the seeker offered the other flier a surprised face, optic ridges lifting as sapphire orbs met gold ones. Jetfire's spark skipped a beat, Starscream's flattering features catching him off guard as he noticed things he didn't before with the other's normal expressions. As soon as the façade had come, it quickly left, the crimson one once more connecting his gaze to a patch of tiles on the floor. "I guess you should count yourself lucky that he did an experiment on me, then."

A knot formed in Jetfire's tanks, the shuttle reaching out a hand before he said, "Hey, that's not what I meant. You made my life extremely difficult in the past, you know."

Snorting, the seeker's mouth turned into a sarcastic smile while asking, "Oh really. How's that?"

"That day you crashed Wheeljack's systems so that you could get a prototype weapon from our labs," said Jetfire as he crossed his arms, leaning inward as he continued, "I was in that room with Wheeljack, and that whole damn lab was going insane. Preceptor practically blew a gasket trying to find out where and how that virus came from. Optimus is just very good at putting on a straight face."

"I knew it!" exclaimed Starscream, voice cracking as his optics flaring as his hands balled into fists, growling, "I _knew_ that virus was in order! Fragging slag, pit-spawned Megatron didn't believe me!"

"Good thing he didn't otherwise we would've been fragged hardcore," grumbled the shuttle, almost proud of himself for being the first to having Starscream react with some real emotion. "That weapon was so unstable we had to confiscate it. It would've blown up half of Cybertron if the Decepticons would've gotten their hands on it."

"Fragging piece of crap," cursed the seeker, crossing his arms in aggravation. "I never lived that fragging one down. Now I'm angry. Not that it matters now, anyways."

Jetfire smiled slightly beneath his mask, enjoying seeing Starscream out of his emotional hole and talking freely. "Well I hope it makes you feel better that as passive as we were from your attacks, it wasn't always true. As a matter of fact, if there wasn't Optimus to negotiate so well, we all would've been slagged."

For a brief moment, Starscream stared into Jetfire's optics, expression hard as the seeker fled into thought. Taking the time to ingest the crimson one's features, the shuttle roamed over Starscream's face plates, his neck, his pastel blue glass panes of his cockpit. Seekers were the 'beautiful' fliers, as having a more slender build, graceful flying and vibrant colors, they often got more of the attention than any other sky-hugging mechs. Starscream was no exception, that was for certain, and the knots of guilt in Jetfire's tanks turned into knots of intrigue and attraction. Back on Cybertron, Jetfire's personality earned him enough points to get on anyone's good side, but there was nothing like a seeker coming into the local bar and completely stealing the spot light. They simply had an alluring presence, both with their design and ambience.

Despite all this, it was beyond a doubt that Jetfire couldn't do a thing about it. This was a time of war, Starscream had just defected to the Autobots, and now was attempting to fight off a nature that wasn't his and thoughts that had been planted into his processor. For the shuttle to even think of interfacing with the seeker was only a fleeting thought and would remain that way, no matter how intense the temptation was. And it was intense.

Maybe he'd been alone for just a wee bit too long.

"Hum, well," coughed Jetfire, glancing away at the wall before catching gazes with the crimson one again, "I'm going to let you get some rest. Like I said before, if you need anything, don't hesitate to let me know."

"Sure," murmured Starscream with a puzzled expression from the other's behavior, before the white Autobot quickly turned down the hall and walked away. _What was that?_

* * *

><p>With cough, Megatron exited through the teleporter, moving away from it as his dazed soldiers came to terms as to where they were at and how'd they gotten there. Stomping from the room and into the command center, the Decepticon walked up to Hook, who was standing there waiting for him to report his findings.<p>

"Well, that looks like it went well," sneered the mech, noting the two wounds on his leader, "What happened?"

"He 'saw' us, as you had predicted," stated Megatron, continuing to move towards the laboratory. No-one else needed to hear this; especially if it caused them anxiety. The last thing he needed was to have a bunch of spooked Decepticons afraid of taking on a single seeker. "But the programming you added to make him have primitive instincts worked out better than I thought—he was able to adapt to every soldier's fighting style and reproach. His systems look like they've adapted quicker than we initially thought they would."

Hook wrote down all of the Decepticon leader's findings on his datapad which he carried, remaining silent so that every detail could be noted. "How was his reaction time?" asked the doctor, opening the surgical door for his commander to enter.

"Slower than when he was escaping. I suppose it was because he didn't feel as though his life was being threatened," said Megatron as he went to a cooler on the far side of the room, removing an energon cube to recover. Hook aided by tossing him a large towel to wipe the caked energon on his face, neck and shoulder. "Which reminds me, all fear of me he had before, he doesn't have it any longer. As a matter of fact, I've never seen a mech that was so confident as myself. It was quite the sight to behold."

Hook nodded, seemingly satisfied with the results. "Well, that had been the intention from the start. Unfortunately we hadn't managed to put in the programming to make him more submitting. If we get a hold of him again, that's the first thing that's going to place—"

"After I beat the slag out of him for betraying me," snapped the leader, clenching the cube in his hand. With Starscream's new-found sense of courage, his respect for the purple Decepticon definitely didn't get any better. As a matter of fact, it had achieved a new low, and that was the only real thing that had bothered the tank when fighting the seeker. Besides that, it seemed as though he'd already began trusting the Autobots, which meant it would make it a little more difficult to bring Starscream back to the Decepticons. "We'll get him back," said Megatron. "It's just a matter of time. Everyone comes back."

"Of course, my lord," responded Hook with a thoughtful tone. "Did he exhibit signs that he knows what happened to him?"

"No," stated the other while he set down the towel on the counter, crossing his arms while muttering, "Not in detail, at least. Not that it would matter. I imagine it would even create a rift between himself and the Autobots if they knew what happened. That reminds me, did you remove the Mini-Con's bodies properly?"

"Yes sir," returned Hook, his datapad continuing to be assaulted by the mass amount of information being put in. "All three bodies are in crates and stored. Anything else?"

"His optics turned blue," said Megatron, swirling around the last bit of energon in the cube before downing it, "and when he was outputting, his voice box seemed to have depth to it... Also, by the end of the battle, he picked up Prime's sidearm and transformed it into a shotgun by removing some of the metal from his arm. That's the only form of the Mini-Con's power he seemed to use besides 'seeing' us. Otherwise, he's barely tapped into his new source."

Nodding, the medic continued to scribble when the door swished open once more, revealing a stumbling, broken and bruised Cyclonus. The yellow mech glanced wearily up at the two, pausing a moment to ingest them before saying, "Am I interrupting?"

"No," stated Megatron as he tossed the empty cube away before striding up the helicopter, whom he grabbed easily, picking him up with a single arm and taking smaller gunman to the surgical table. Setting him down, the tank glanced at the doctor said, "Tell me your conclusions later. I'm going to start setting up for our next attack."

"Yes, Lord Megatron," responded Hook as he set down his datapad, picking up some medical supplies to put the yellow Decepticon back together again.

As Megatron exited from the bay, he plummeted into his thoughts. Although it had all been planned out—and so well, naturally—the violet Decepticon couldn't help but recall Starscream's erratic behavior, wild and demented as he fought with power and stride to destroy Megatron's spark. The sight caused the leader a brief moment of fear, and that was enough to both satisfy him and make certain that Starscream would once again be a Decepticon. No-one had caused fear in Megatron in millions of years, and that was the most important part. If Starscream was to become one of most powerful weapons, then he needed to cause fear throughout _everyone_—including Prime. And that would be the difficult part. The sentimental fool saw fear in nothing, and if the seeker was capable of doing it, then he'd be able to crush the Autobots once and for all.

Entering Starscream's abandoned room, the tank located what he was looking for, taking the handle for the Gatling gun and picking it up with ease. The thing was practically done besides a few minor details, the Decepticon insignia, and the smooth finish it should have. Megatron liked the matte look of it, the black metal dull in the lights of the hallway; picking up a magazine from the floor and quickly loading the weapon, the Decepticon pointed at the wall and fired.

Energon pellets sprayed across the silver barrier, many puncturing through and slips of light shined into the dark room. With a smirk, Megatron found himself pleased with the result. Flawless. "You won't be able to escape me this time," murmured Megatron, ruby orbs dancing along the flat color of the weapon. "Or ever again."

* * *

><p>AN: Another done! Yes!

**Edit:** 9/5/13: Once again, I added more detail/tried to smooth to story out a bit more. Hope you like!

Read and review, please!


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note_: I appreciate all the wonderful feedback you guys are giving me! I believe I did fix the issue that appeared in the second chapter. Thanks again for those who corrected me! **Edit**: 9/5/13: Added more! Thank you guys!

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Transformers.

_Chapter 4_:

Hunched and trembling over the drain in the latrine, Starscream hacked as his systems attempted to revolt every bit of his energon reserves. Every nerve fiber in the seeker's being was firing at full blast, pain echoing over every inch of his frame. His head spun as though he were strapped into a failing transport unit, the nausea making his tanks feel as though they were being dragged to the floor. And while the intensity grew every time he choked up, his strength seemed to continue to dwindle away quicker and quicker.

_Slaggit_, thought the seeker after he convulsed once more, agony arching up and down his body. He didn't want to search for Red Alert, because he knew the damned medic would poke and prod him with every needle known to mech, but, on the other hand, he also wondered if there was something serious going on with his body. Either to be tortured by reliving what happened in that Decepticon lab or be tortured by the fear of not knowing what was happening to him. Oh, the choices...

With a cough and a lurk forward, Starscream once more heaved, a small amount of pink escaping his throat as he spit to remove the access from his mouth. His helm throbbed from the strain, his optics squeezing shut to brace the pain from the attack.

"Ouch," muttered the seeker, wiping his wet lips with a few trembling fingers.

Suddenly, the door behind him swished open, Starscream swiveling around to face whoever it was, revealing a tired Jetfire as he entered the room. Optics glimmered to life at the sight of the newcomer, surprised, as though he hadn't heard the hacking and regurgitating sounds Starscream had been making all night.

Crouching next to the seeker, he said, "Do you want to see Red Alert?"

Shaking his head, Starscream couldn't even bear to respond before he vomited again, this event even more powerful than the last. Jetfire grabbed the crimson one's upper arms before he fell over, giving support where needed. Head spinning like a top, the seeker leaned against the wall with a groan, energon dripping from his bottom lip. There was a pause in the room, a chance for the crimson one to briefly recover before the next wave came in. Jetfire leaned towards the sink, stretching to grab a towel the humans had made them before handing it to his counterpart.

Slowly, Starscream took it and wiped his face, then held it against him as though a human would a pillow, his optics sluggishly closing in attempt to get a bit of rest. Jetfire stared at his new cohort with remorse; he knew what it was like to feel like this, the shuttle had experienced one too many nights where he'd gotten out of control with high-grade energon and paid for it later. Fortunately, since Starscream was a seeker, the shuttle knew what helped the most.

Reaching out a hand, the white Autobot smoothed up and down the smaller one's back, being sure not to add too much pressure. At first, the seeker tinged with surprise at the touch, staring at the other in shock, as though the other had assaulted him. Jetfire offered the best pleasant expression he could muster, showing no sort of ill-will, before the Starscream's optics grew dark again and he turned away, sighing as he settled against the wall once more. Taking it as a cue to continue, the white one scooted a little closer and used both hands to ease his pain, knowing how well the exposed wires and sensitive plating could affect a flier.

A shiver ran up Starscream's spine as Jetfire gently ran his fingers across the susceptible areas, the distraction enough for the seeker to avoid the throbbing aftereffects of his episode. The fact that the seeker was allowing the white Autobot to touch him at all was a miracle; he hated physical contact, especially from any mech that was larger than him. Too many times he'd been caught off guard that way, not to mention whenever a Decepticon (who liked Starscream, anyways) attempted any touching, it always ended up being like some awkward creeper interaction rather than anything intimate.

Jetfire, however, approached it differently, being a flier he still knew where the 'soft spots' were located, but with his strange type of empathy and friendliness, it didn't have the same stalker feeling that radiated sexual intentions. The whole thing was entirely innocent, and Starscream felt more comfortable than he knew was appropriate—but, for now, it'd pass. After all, with the sickly sensations receding from his body, his tanks settling, he didn't want to stop the mech who was making the pain go away.

Starscream was surprised to find Jetfire pulling him up from the floor, realizing that he'd succumbed to recharge. The shuttle's strength shocked the seeker as he easily brought the smaller into his arms, taking him away from the glaring lights of the latrine. Darkness consumed everything as he heard the door to his room slide open, Jetfire walking to the berth and gently settling the seeker into the warm confines. It didn't take him a moment longer to fall into a deep, fulfilling recharge.

Standing above the unconscious seeker, Jetfire took a moment to glance over the sickly mech. The Starscream he once knew had changed so much he wasn't sure what type of Transformer was he looking at now. Beyond the circumstances, beyond his physical changes, beyond anything, it was his lack of fear. What the ex-Decepticon once was so frightened of, he carried a new face of confidence— against the fear of death, against the fear of Megatron, even against the fear of the virus which caused him so much pain. Optics which were bright with deception and panic were now as solid as stone, unwavering in his pursuit of a cure...and the death of the Decepticon leader.

Sliding down to the floor, Jetfire decided it'd be best to remain in the room until morning, just in case Starscream's symptoms began acting up again. He'd have to find Red Alert right away, and his room was fortunately right next to Optimus' at the end of the hall. With a sigh, the shuttle leaned back against the wall, stretching out his legs across the small bit of room he had. He'd ache in the morning, but he'd pulled through worse before on Cybertron. As a matter of fact, sleeping on a berth was a privilege…

* * *

><p>Slowly, Starscream achieved consciousness, optics coming online as he remained still, staring at the wall from the berth he laid upon. This time, he hadn't forgotten where or who he was. The truth was a like a black blanket as it laid over him, gruesome and cold in its absolution. Betrayed, a freak of nature, a kind of monster which belonged to no faction or being. Forevermore, to be his own type of race, a medium grey between black and white. Within a moment, Starscream realized he would wake up day after day with the same thoughts, the same hopelessness and sense of treachery. Each morning, his thirst for revenge would grow stronger, continue to drive him off the brink.<p>

With a small scowl, the seeker realized he would exist until what needed to be done was done. And, when that time came, the crimson one wouldn't be able to bear existence anymore. Not as a half-seeker. Not something that was only halfway between a Transformer and an animal. Even now, he could feel it in his tanks, through the veins of energon in his body…it was like a beast in waiting, prepared to pounce and destroy at any moment. Like optics watching over his shoulder…

_Just what are you waiting for? _Starscream thought.

Something stirred within him, a shift as though something were alive in his very wiring and parts. Behind his optics, he saw a flash of a smile, the presence within him taunting his question, his motive. Starscream blinked once, a soft growl of annoyance escaping him. He supposed such petty revenge and emotions weren't applicable to such great power—and it never would be. Why would you need to kill anything when everything feared you? Starscream wondered if, in the future, Megatron's optics would fall upon him and see him as a monster. The thing he created. A death machine. Clearing his throat, the crimson one sat up, turning when he noticed a flash of white in the corner of his visual range.

Hunched against the wall was Jetfire, head slightly tilted to the side and down, arms crossed, optics shuttered, the Autobot fast asleep. _He's stayed?_ The thought came and passed when the shuttle suddenly awoke, optics open and awake as though he'd never fallen into recharge. Turning to the seeker, Starscream noted a soft warm hue glowed in Jetfire's golden orbs as he said, "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Surprisingly," muttered the other as he slid off the berth and stood, staring at the white Autobot with a confused expression. "Why didn't you go back to your room?"

"As second-in-command, it's my duty to ensure the health of my subordinates," said the other smoothly, lifting his optic ridges. His tone held no sense of mockery, ridicule, simply an explanation. "Besides, I had to make sure you didn't fall ill during the middle of the night without someone there to watch you. It didn't feel right."

_Now I need a fragging sparkling-sitter? Great…_mentally sighed the seeker, biting his tongue as he stood and exited his quarters. Did he really give off the air of being _that_ pathetic? It was disgusting, really…he was one of the most powerful seekers to exist, and somehow he still managed to get others to pity him. Now, he had a new strength, with new abilities and a ferocious attitude and somehow he _still_—

"So, do you feel up to going on the flight patrol still?" said Jetfire, cutting through his thoughts as he followed the seeker out.

Lifting an optic ridge, the seeker muttered, "You're not 'worried'?"

Jetfire shrugged. "It's a question, you don't have to—"

"Let's go," murmured the ex-Decepticon, exiting out into the hall.

A smile shined through the white Autobot's optics, bright with excitement as he followed the other out. "You can't resist me."

* * *

><p>Starscream was the first to take off into the morning sky, still blanketed with the darkness of the fading night, where just beyond the western horizon the sun was beginning its trek into dawn. Thrusters shrieked as the seeker seared into the clouds, a red blur as he disappeared from Jetfire's vision. With a gasp, the shuttle took to the air slower, gaping in marvel as the crimson one spun in radical motions, each move so smooth and beautiful it left the other speechless. The sky was his; the two belonged to each other like melody belonged to song, a bird that owned its wings, completely synced with one another to the point of perfection. Diving up towards the other, the shuttle attempted to fly in suit with the other, but the ex-Decepticon seared by him, so fast that he was gone within moments. The exceptional beauty of it all left Jetfire hanging in midair with a huge smile under his facemask and his optics shimmering in delight.<p>

There was no way Jetfire could possibly keep up; all he could do was watch with wonder as Starscream owned the heavens.

Banking to the right, Starscream turned back, slowing so that he could stand with the other in the air. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, you're wonderful," gasped the white Autobot as golden optics shimmered. "Your techniques are amazing! I look like a big ol' block going through the air compared to you."

The seeker wasn't expecting such a compliment, apparent by his expression as he shifted his gaze to the forest floor before murmuring, "It's nothing special, I was just fragging around."

"Well, then, I'd like to see what 'special' is to you, because it must be amazing," said the shuttle, beaming.

Starscream's face turned meek as he turned to glance back at Jetfire before returning it to the ground again. "It's nothing, really. I just haven't flown in a few days and it's had a toll on me, I suppose."

"In that case, ride as hard as you want. I'm just enjoying watching you," said the other as he crossed his arms, offering a genuine expression.

Nodding, Starscream pushed back slightly before taking off again, boosters screaming in response to the pressure he put on them. Seconds went by and he was merely a dot against the blue and black backdrop, Jetfire smiling to see the seeker relieve some stress. He understood all too well—there were those days, often times too many, that everything about the war and his personal life seem to build on his shoulders and threaten to break down his spirit. There was nothing like having an intense flying session to let out all the anger, the fear, the frustration…it was like being drugged or something.

As Starscream's wings sliced through the clouds, the soft white against the hard blue reflecting off the flawless red paint, he seared somewhere in between Earth and the upper atmosphere. A fine line separated the green from the blue, and the seeker half wondered that, if he flew fast enough, if he could across into somewhere else. Every waking klik Starscream spent fighting for the right for what would bring him happiness-respect, most of all. To have other look at him with a measure of decency, which he'd been robbed of his entire life. The only thing which he knew would bring him any kind of respect was the kind earned or forced; earned through his science, or forced with power. He finally achieved power, finally achieved a measure of Megatron's respect (Megatron-of all mechs), but he wasn't happy.

No, he wasn't happy; he was far from it.

Growling softly, the crimson seeker sliced through the sky, pushing himself so hard that it hurt, his thrusters bursting with pain as icy air slashed against his frame. Pushing further to the edge of this tiny planet, further to the edge of existence, further away from himself. Crystals formed along his armor the closer he reached the vacuum of space, a soft white film appearing along the red paint. The darkness began surrounding him, and Starscream fleetingly wondered if Megatron could detect him from where he was—the moon was bright and round and Megatron was somewhere on that white ball and he expected a jolt of fear to trace through his systems at the thought.

**Maybe he'll come to you easier that way, to destroy him. **

The thought was in a different voice of his own, Starscream immediately understood that. The tone was the same from when he broke out from the Decepticon base…

_Who are you?_

**Does it matter?**

Stopping in his tracks, Starscream floated for a moment before he growled, _Frag yes, it _matters!_ I'm a freak of nature thanks to whatever Megatron did to me, and having voices in my helm isn't making things better._

**You're not the only one who's angry, Starscream. **

_What's that supposed to mean?_ Asked the seeker, a scowl a deep line across his features.

**If there's one thing about power, there is always a certain rule you must abide: you must control it, or it will control you.**

With a growl, Starscream snapped, _What the frag is that about?_

**Think about it. Rage has replaced fear. Your once-submissive nature about the universe has turned backwards into dominance. Whatever stands in your way, you **_**will**_** destroy. If a Decepticon made a surprise assault on Jetfire, you wouldn't think twice about ripping them to pieces. Is it you doing that? Or is it the power given to you?**

_You're insane. I was never once-submissive and I'm sure Jetfire could very well handle himself. _

**Does it matter? You've become something you'd always wanted to be, right?**

_Who the hell wants to be something they're not?_

**You do.**

Clenching his fist, unable to hold out on his anger anymore, the seeker snapped: "What the _frag_? You can't just pop in and out of my fragging head like that! I have a damn right to know what the _frag_ is going on with me!" Swirling around, the seeker glanced left and right as though he'd be able to physically apprehend his foe, but he knew he was fooling himself. He'd thought before the voices from when he escaped were just a figment; something to get a rise from him so he'd gather the strength to get off the moon. Apparently not.

When he turned around, there was himself. Starscream was staring at Starscream.

_What?_

Wide eyes stared at the mech before him, impossible to be there, but too realistic not to be. The "Starscream" before him, however, had his optics hollowed out and a vacant expression, mouth slightly agape. A shadow cast over the body, making his armor a chalky red, as though he were in a dark room. The red seeker was so befuddled with the sight before him that he reached out, curious to touch it and confirm that it, indeed, was a real replica of himself.

Abruptly the statue awoke, like the master had tugged the puppet to life, before light glared out of the gaps in his optics and mouth. His hand snapped out, grappling Starscream's arm and crashing the other into his frame, the ex-Decepticon growling in defiance. Glaring up at his counterpart, Starscream felt his spark burst in rate as the 'puppet' stared down upon him.

**Everything you were before disgusted you. You hated every moment, since when you came online to when you laid down to recharge. Every day knowing another mech had control over you, power and a name that you would never know. You had to walk behind their shadow every day and knew that you would never—**

"Starscream?"

Jolting with surprise, the seeker drew back and turned about, noticing Jetfire hovering besides him. Puzzled expression, he asked, "Are you alright? I saw that you stopped and thought something was wrong."

Chassis tight, hands fisted, the crimson one glanced around him, optics searching for some sort of proof that it wasn't a hallucination. _But how could it be otherwise_? He asked himself, shaking his helm to rid himself of the disturbing feeling cloaking him. _There's no such thing a double. Megatron wouldn't go as far as to frag with me this way…or…would he?_ Swallowing, the seeker forced himself to slow down, turning back to the other mech, but keeping his gaze to the world below. Sealing his lips shut, he thought, _Slaggit. I'm fragging losing my mind_.

"Starscream?" repeated Jetfire, reaching a hand out.

"I'm fine," whispered the other turning from the contact. "Let's just get this patrol over with."

Worry reflecting in his optics, the white Autobot started, "Do you want to go—"

"_No_," Starscream cut through sharply while connecting gazes with the other, earning a surprised look. "I'm fine," he said again, this time slower as he lifted his chin slightly, "still recovering, I think. It'll help if I fly."

Jetfire nodded, although he was still suspicious. Starscream almost felt embarrassed about being caught talking to himself like that…if he cared at all. He didn't give a frag if the whole damn Autobot army thought he'd lost his mind—as long as he got his revenge, nothing else mattered.

* * *

><p>Starscream immediately knew something different about the Autobot base—voices.<p>

As the pair arrived from their patrol, quietly entering the base after having to hear Jetfire babble the entire time, there seemed to be great fuss in the common room. Jetfire went ahead as Starscream followed behind, sticking to the shadows as much as possible so he wouldn't be noticed. He didn't even go through the doorway where the troop was collected. Rather, he only half revealed himself as curious sapphire optics observed the room to see what all the commotion was about.

"Alexis, you're back!" exclaimed the white Autobot, opening his arms in greeting.

_Ugh, the humans. _The seeker had nearly forgotten about the tiny, indigenous lifeforms Prime kept around. Starscream scowled as he noticed the three humans and several Mini-Cons as the center of attention. Now that he reflected on it, the Mini-Con's hadn't been present in the last couple battles when the Autobots and Decepticons clashed. No wonder they had been trying to lay low for awhile…but why the frag would Optimus think it'd be a good idea to let the Mini-Con's be absent?

"How was California?" continued Jetfire, smiling as he bent down to better look at their 'friends'.

The young woman-the only female of the group-glanced up at the other as she replied, "It was wonderful! The Mini-Con's really liked the ocean, although they were afraid of rusting. We collected a whole bunch of shells for everyone!"

"Ooo! Shells!" gloated the second-in-command as he looked at the small sac that contained them.

The lively chatter that ensued kept Starscream's thoughts occupied as he watched the meat creatures conversing happily with the Autobots. Why Prime bothered to keep them around, the ex-Decepticon could never guess. They were a high liability, fragile and small. One of soldiers could step on them and not realize it until someone saw the bloody trail. Plus, they made too much noise, too much waste, too much distraction. They might as well have been bugs as a fair comparison.

As the seeker crossed his arms and continued to watch the two species interact, he realized with annoyance that, if he wanted to gain the Autobot's trust, he would also have to put up with the humans. He guessed calling them "meat creatures" was out of the question. Or beef sticks. Or maggots (Megatron's favorite). Or target practice. Starscream realized he could at least agree with the Decepticons about that one-what was useful about creatures who could potentially ruin a whole military operation? The seeker imagined he would soon find out.

"Starscream, why don't you come in?" Optimus suddenly quipped, forcing everyone's attention towards the seeker.

His tanks dropped. _Augh, frag you, Prime._ Growling softly, he glared at the commander, frustrated by dropping everyone's interest on him. "No thanks," murmured the crimson one.

"Wait, why's Starscream here and why isn't he trying to kill everyone?" asked Carlos while offering a confused expression to Optimus.

"He defected," answered Hot Shot with arms crossed and optics averted. "Megahead isn't as awesome as he thinks he is."

"Well, we all knew that, but why'd he defect?" asked Rad, the blond-haired one.

As the group conversed, Starscream noticed, now that his attention was removed for the humans, several Mini-Con's suddenly surrounded him. They stared up at him as though it was a sight they'd never seen before. He recognized each one from battle-Prime's, Hot Shot's, Red Alert's, and so on. Even the children had their own. One chirruped at him, a little hand reaching out towards his face.

"What?" muttered the larger as he bent to his knees.

A small red one grappled onto his arm, climbing up onto his chassis before extended to get as close to his face plates as possible. Starscream leaned back, not appreciating the breach of personal space, before he grabbed the tiny Mini-Con and set him on the floor.

"It looks like they like you," the girl suddenly giggled, materializing next to him with her arms clasped behind her back. Of all the humans, the female was the smallest, the thinnest, the most fragile. There was no possible help she could give to the Autobots they couldn't already handle. Plus, they didn't even wear armor-only a thin layer which covered their nakedness. Clad in a red tank top, tattered long brown skirt and calf-high boots, the seeker couldn't imagine waltzing around on Cybertron in the same getup. Exposed to all the elements, even without a war, how did the humans get along without a decent defense, like armor, or at least a force field? Smiling at him, Starscream became distracted by the strange sense of friendliness the mech didn't expect. "Starscream, right? I'm Alexis. A.k.a. the only one who has brains in the human party," she said with a slight bow.

Starscream cocked his head at her quirkiness, surprised she wouldn't be more hesitant at approaching an ex-Decepticon. "I don't think humans have brains."

"Well, you'd be mistaken," she continued as a smile graced her features. "But don't worry, I'm sure we'll have plenty of opportunities for me to dissuade you."

"You think so," murmured the other, surprising himself at how comfortable he felt around the girl. Maybe he knew he could squash her in a second, or the fact that she held absolutely no fear speaking to him. It was though he were never a Decepticon, and the tone was refreshing.

"I know so," returned Alexis as he offered him a proud glance. "Anyways, if you get sick of talking to the others, I'm always here. Mostly trying to figure out where more Mini-Cons are. I'd think the Autobots only kept me here for that reason."

"Aw, Alexis, that hurts!" Jetfire suddenly exclaimed, sidestepping from the common room and standing above them. "You know we love you, you're just good at what you do."

Smiling up at the Autobot, the girl laughed, "Oh, sure! Tell that to Hot Shot. Barking over the intercom at me a couple weeks ago, like I'm supposed to _instantly_ figure out the coordinates or some shit. You guys drive me crazy sometimes."

"Huh...I just got whipped!" said Jetifre as he crossed his arms, looking a bit puzzled. No doubt about how such a tiny thing could talk like that to something ten times her size.

"What did I do wrong?" asked Hot Shot as he appeared from the entry, before glancing down at the glaring Alexis. Noticing what her expression implied, he exclaimed, "You're _still_ mad about that?! I said I was sorry! Am I supposed to get down or my knees or something?"

"You almost blew out my eardrums because you were so paranoid! How about a smash a hammer against your audio receptors and we'll be even," snorted the girl, throwing her arms into the air in exasperation.

"See, this is why you should've kept her on vacation, Optimus," said the yellow Autobot, optics reflecting in anger, "she comes back and so does all her 'drama'. Watch out, Starscream, you might be next!"

Hot Shot wiggled his fingers in front of Starscream's face for emphasis, the ex-Decepticon stepping back while rolling his optics at the immature attitude.

"At least he doesn't act like a youngling, all noise, noise!" rebutted the young woman, sliding off her boot and throwing it at his helm. It bounced off with a clang, making Hot Shot smack it away like a bug, before he glowered at the young woman.

"C'mon, Mini-Cons! We're going to go _train_!" shouted the Autobot, stomping towards the exit. "I'm going to frag with the Star Saber for awhile. If anyone wants me, I don't give a slag."

Exiting quickly, the hall fell silent. Starscream couldn't help but be surprised on how much Alexis controlled the Autobots—no doubt she was the only female, and such a fragile one at that, but she carried authority about her, being able to track the Mini-Con's and all. Personally, Starscream just found mirth in the fact that something so tiny had such an effect on such huge robots.

"Jerk," muttered the girl as she went to retrieve her boot.

"That was amusing," said Starscream as he stood, offering a smile to Jetfire.

"It's regular around here. Ignoring it is your only savior," murmured the white Autobot.

Optimus and Red Alert suddenly appeared in the hallway, as though they'd been privately talking to each other and were just getting in on the drama. With bright golden orbs, Prime asked, "Where did Hot Shot go?"

"He left to train with the Star Saber because Alexis pissed him off," replied Jetfire, arching his optic bridges.

The commander sighed, obviously recognizing the situation and deciding not to comment on it. Rather, he glanced at Starscream and said, "We convinced Ratchet and Preceptor to come to Earth. They'll be here sometime later this week."

Jetfire jumped in sudden enthusiasm, exclaiming, "Ratchet the Hatchet's coming? Oh, this is going to be awesome—!"

"This is why I've come to tell you and Hot Shot to not destroy the entire base while he's here. He's got very limited time because of what's going on in Cybertron, and thankfully there's an abundance of medics right now, but we all know that can change rapidly. He needs things with Starscream to go as fast as possible, and he doesn't need any of your tricks to deter him from his work," stated Prime, he tone solid and tough to get his point across, although his expression seemed to give away that Jetfire and Hot Shot would do anything but listen.

"But he's so much fun to frag with," said the white Autobot, almost looking dreamy at old memories.

Starscream was hardly excited, though. This medic was going to come and expect his 'patient' to be prepared to be poked, prodded and everything else in between to gather his data. The seeker wasn't prepared. The mere thought of a syringe, the test tubes, the smell of antiseptic, it all sent shivers down his back. The reminder was too great—he knew he was blocking out what happened at the Decepticon base, and he wasn't ready to dip into such sensitive memories quite yet.

But he was going to have to. Either that, or be forced to have to exist with this…_virus _for even longer. The few days he'd spent submerged with so much power and sickness was enough to drive any mech insane; it was already making him hear voices and seeing things, and he didn't need for it to progress any further. There was something terrifying about how much he wanted to continue using this power, however. The old part of his personality was still intact, although a bit broken, and "old" Starscream liked the power. Liked the way it made him feel. There was a portion of him that hated every moment, every time he vomited, every time he lost control. But, he liked the way Megatron stared at him with a sense of accomplishment-pride, even. He was too frightened to admit it to himself, but maybe being a monster wasn't such a terrible thing after all.

**He who fears something gives it power over him.**

* * *

><p>AN: Hooray! Another completed. :) The last line above is actually a Moorish Proverb, so it doesn't belong to me. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Please read and review!


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note_: Goodness, I'm so sorry for the morbidly long wait. I appreciate your patience, and hope you enjoy the latest installment!

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Transformers.

_Chapter 5_: Disease

Starscream was trembling.

The needle gleamed in the sunlight from the windows, reflective in its sterile state as Ratchet stood before him. "Just relax, Starscream, it'll take but a moment. Luckily for you, your build makes it easy for me to access those inner arteries I need to get to."

Swallowing, the seeker replied with a growl laced in its tone, "I suppose I'm to be thankful."

"How've you been? I know you've gone through a lot recently and I hope everyone's been behaving accordingly," said the doctor as he set down the needle and cleaned his hands and arms.

"Sure. Fine. I guess," said Starscream, stumbling through his words as he kept his attention glued to the needle. It didn't help he was surrounded by machines of all sorts, wires strewn about him as they took measurements, their noises only adding to Starscream's anxiety. Preceptor had waited behind because of a medical emergency on a high-ranking officer, which would keep him occupied for another few days. The seeker couldn't help but feel a little greedy for the fact that he was taking this amazing doctor's time away from others who could benefit far more.

"Well, if they aren't, let someone know. There's no place in the Autobot army for prejudice or discrimination," said the doctor as he turned, drying his hand on a rag and offering the seeker a meaningful gaze. "It takes away from the mission."

Starscream nodded, though he wasn't really paying attention to his words. "Thanks."

"Certainly. Alright, just hold still and we'll get this over quickly," said the white medic as he grabbed the needle once again, stepping into the crimson one's bubble to begin the procedure. Trained hands rapidly took Starscream's arm as blue optics searched for the appropriate place to stab him. The metal-on-metal contact was like ice touching fire, grinding against his sensory field.

Starscream's cooling systems kicked into overdrive as his spark burst into a rapid beat, natural reaction forcing his arm to pull away from the Autobot. The touch was driving him crazy, he couldn't stand it. Anxious, thoughts and images flowing through Starscream's processor a million miles a minute, and the seeker could only think to escape. What if they were planning to take what was inside him so they could give it to themselves? To dissect him, to break him apart juts to find this power?

Ratchet stared at him in surprise, searching for an explanation to his behavior.

"I change my mind, I'm not ready," whispered the crimson one, sliding back on the surgical bed.

Ratchet scowled at him, not please with the uncooperative statement. "Starscream, I don't have time for this. There are mechs in much more need of my help back on Cybertron."

"Then go back! I can't do this!" exclaimed the other, the flint of his anger igniting.

"Listen to me, I didn't come all the way out here just so you could tell me you've decided that you don't want my help. Now, the quicker you cooperate, the quicker we get this over with," snapped the medic, cocking his head as though he were speaking to a sparkling.

The seeker glanced up at the other, optics flashing white, fists clenching so hard that they throbbed as he growled, "**Frag off.**"

"Starscream—"

"**I'm warning you!**" exclaimed the other as he tossed the wires from his body, knocking over the expensive and fragile machines. Leaping from the medical table, he stood tall as he looked down upon the medic, whose expression crossed with fear. Starscream reached out to push him away, when his sight went black. He blinked once to clear his vision, and when he did, Ratchet had disappeared from his view. His spark beat was steady now, although his cooling systems were still blasting.

The door on the far end of the room suddenly opened, where Jetfire appeared, sliding into the room at full speed. Wide, golden optics stared at Starscream before they fell to the ground, their depths freezing with horror at the sight. Starscream followed suit; his spark stopped at what he saw, energon splattered and body parts strewn across the ground and counter before him, a ravage display which made the seeker almost sick.

The scene was so brutal that Starscream couldn't even tell that it was Ratchet anymore—lifting his hands into his vision, he saw the medic's energon drenched on his hands, his chassis, confirming the kill was his own. Limbs going numb from the horror of it all, Starscream glanced at Jetfire, who quickly pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the offending seeker.

"I-I didn't mean it," stuttered the crimson one, optics wide as he stumbled towards the shuttle. "Please, I didn't mean it! I was…I was just scared!"

"Stay back! I mean it!" exclaimed the white Autobot, his grip tightening on the weapon. "Don't make me fire on you, Starscream!"

Trembling, the seeker whispered, "I didn't mean it…"

"Stand down, Starscream!" cried Jetfire, energon tears protruding from their corners.

Suddenly, a weight collapsed on Starscream's back, pulling him backwards before the seeker flipped over, coming face-to-face with the reflection of himself once again. Mouth wide and eyes hollow, the voice was there again. Only the chassis and left hand remained, the creature lugged itself across the floor from his other body parts to drag Starscream down to the pits with him. They were so close that the seeker could smell the strong odor of energon, the sour stench of rust making the other gag.

**You're not strong enough for this power…you can't even control what you used to be…! It will eat you ALIVE! IT WILL DESTROY YOU!**

"…ream."

Gasping, the crimson one jolted up, optics snapping open in shock. Trembling, he glanced quickly around him, taking in his surroundings to find any similarity to the horrific scene which had just been before his view. He was waiting to see the reflection of himself again, its haunting white hollows still dominating his thoughts.

_Wait, that's right_, he murmured as he glanced back at Jetfire. He was sitting beside the seeker, crouching down with both hands on either of the other's shoulders. Expression concerned, touch gentle, he seemed to have heard Starscream from his room. In quick instance, Starscream remembered what happened. _I was hacking and I feel asleep in the latrine. _

Everything was as it was; the metallic walls, the florescent lights, the cold temperature. Nothing had changed, which offered the conclusion that it was simply a dream. It still must've been some time in the night or early morning; no-one was even awake yet, let alone Ratchet arriving from Cybertron. That meant the doctor was still alive.

_Thank Primus_, thought the seeker in relief, briefly allowing his head to fall to the floor. _Oooh, thank Primus…_

"Looks like you had a nasty nightmare," said Jetfire softly.

Starscream swallowed hard, the soft inner tube sore from throwing up so much. "You have no idea."

There was a slight pause before he asked, "Are you ready to go to your berth?"

A moment went by before the seeker nodded, shifting as he attempted to bring himself to his feet. Jetfire aided by wrapping an arm around his waist, heaving him up in a single, smooth motion. Vertigo attacked Starscream and he almost hurdled again, grappling Jetfire's arm before he gasped, "Oh Primus, don't do that."

"Oh, I'm sorry," responded the other, stopping as he said, "Did I move too fast?"

"Yeah," muttered the seeker as he shuttered his optics and opened them again, trying to clear his helm of the overwhelming nausea.

"I apologize. Let's take it slow," murmured the white Autobot as he started towards the door again, this time allowing Starscream to move at the sluggish pace he intended.

The seeker felt a little violated by the unusually large amount of touching that Jetfire did, but he also reminded himself he would've been sleeping in the latrine all night if the shuttle hadn't come. Or, for that matter, something worse might've happened…like a serious attack…or maybe the dream could've gotten so elaborate that his…'other self' might've appeared. That would be a fragging wonderful way to start the orn.

"I don't think that medication Red Alert gave me is helping," muttered Starscream as Jetfire gently lowered the seeker to his berth.

"Well, Ratchet's coming within the week, so I'm sure he'll change up your routine, whatever it is," responded the shuttle. "Sometimes it takes a while for those drugs to start working, anyways."

As the crimson one laid down, he suddenly saw the mirror of himself lying beside him, the metal skin shredded by clawed hands with energon pooling beneath his frame. A strangled gasp escaped Starscream's throat as he snapped upwards, stumbling backwards to get away from the horrid sight. His body collided with Jetfire's enormous chassis, his hands automatically cupping around the seeker's shoulders.

"What's wrong?" asked the Autobot.

Trembling heavily for a moment, the ex-Decepticon waited, allowing his spark beat to slow some before saying, "Nothing. Just spooked myself."

Jetfire stared at the seeker for a moment, suspicion reflecting in his golden optics. He knew the other was lying—but, for some reason, he let it be, allowing Starscream to settle into the soft confines of the bed again. The seeker was glad for it; he didn't want to talk about seeing such a creepy revision of himself…it was like seeing his inner spirit: haunted, having been brought back from death so many times that he looked like a walking corpse. What was worse is Starscream felt like it reflected himself better than what he really looked like.

The crimson one noticed Jetfire settling next to the bed on the floor, and he felt guilty for forcing the shuttle to watch after him. "You don't have to sit on the floor," murmured the seeker, his gaze steady as he spoke. "There's enough room."

A meek expression crossed over the shuttle's face, as though the request was more of a suggestion. Starscream scowled when he noted it and turned away, laying down in embarrassment from the comment. _Way to frag up, Starscream_, the seeker muttered to himself, wanting to kick himself. One more thing to screw up his reputation…making himself look easy.

Swiftly, there was noise behind him, Jetfire shifting as he got back to his feet and slid in next to the smaller form, saying, "I appreciate it."

"Yeah," murmured the other as his faceplates heated up. He hadn't felt this uncomfortable since Cyclonus had invaded his room, coming to see if the rumors were true. He hated that the helicopter had the audacity to think he would converse with the Air Commander in such a way, let alone believing such ridiculous rumors. Unlike what many mechs thought, he _did_ earn his position, and not by sexual favors.

"I won't try anything, trust me," said Jetfire gently, "I just want to make sure you get through the night until Ratchet can give you some options."

Starscream fidgeted at the thought of the medic, but forced those thoughts from his mind. After all, he needed at least a little rest before approaching the very stressful week he was going to have. If he kept thinking about it, he would either divulge into another serious nightmare or not sleep at all. Sighing, Starscream attempted to fit himself into the tightest position against the far wall as he could get with Jetfire behind him, where the Autobot laid on his side.

Silence fell on the pair, the only sound being Jetfire's spark beat, its thunderous and powerful vibe vibrating the bed. The seeker found a little hilarity in that—such a loud mech would be fit to have an equally loud beat to his spark. However, the more time went on, the more Starscream found himself enjoying it. The steady sound and the faint sense of vibration through the berth was enough to quickly lull the other to sleep, along with the shuttle's abundant body warmth. Jetfire was like a space heater.

* * *

><p>After dropping Starscream off at Red Alert's medical bay, Jetfire departed to leave the pair there. He first needed to report to Optimus what was going on with the seeker, as sort of being his 'incognito' mission regarding the crimson one. It was never an actual order, but the information was an aid to help Prime decide what he wanted to do with the ex-Decepticon. The tactic essentially was gathering Intel on what Megatron might have in store in later battles, but Jetfire also knew his leader. Optimus could never turn away a 'bot in need.<p>

Quietly entering his commander's office, the other lifting his gaze as he did so, the shuttle murmured, "Hello sir."

"Jetfire," said the semi respectfully as he stood, coming around his desk. "I take it this night went the same as the last? It doesn't appear that Red Alert's medication is working…"

The Autobot frowned, crossing his arms as he returned, "Yea, he said the same thing. I don't know, Optimus, I think it's more than just a diagnoses. He seems like…"

When his voice faded, the leader cocked his head in curiosity, his expression open to Jetfire's thoughts. The shuttle wasn't the type to shy away from telling Optimus his opinions, so he assumed he was trying to gather his ideas before he continued.

"I was just thinking," he finally began once more, "Red Alert's been treating him like he has a disease, which he really doesn't. I mean, Megatron didn't _infect_ him with anything, he used him as an experiment. I just think he's approaching it wrongly, that's all."

Optimus nodded with agreement, as he said, "I'll tell him to keep those factors in mind." When the shuttle didn't move or say anything, the semi asked, "Is there something else?"

"Yea…" sighed the white Autobot as he shifted his gaze to the floor, "I think…he's starting to…hallucinate."

The opposite mech's optic ridges lifted in shock as he said, "How can you tell?"

Jetfire began slowly, as though he was scrawling over every detail of the memory. "After I got him out of the latrine, and I put him on the berth…he freaked out for a brief klik, as though there was already something there. He backed up into me, and then it seemed to disappear."

"Did you ask him about it?" questioned the commander.

"No, he looked so strung out I was worried saying anything would make him freak out more. Luckily he managed to sleep through the whole night without anything else bothering him," muttered the shuttle with a sigh in his voice. "It freaks me out a little because it looked like something that really scared him. It just gave me the feeling last night like something was watching us or some slag…"

Prime paused momentarily, considering what his counterpart said. He'd dealt with delusional mechs before, and it wasn't a pretty picture. Some had lost it just from the pressure of war, countless battles and kills, others because of spreading viruses which infected and destroyed his troops from within. Whatever the case, it was going to be light treading from here on out.

"It was weird, too, 'cause he seemed so traumatized, and I even found him in the bathroom woken up from a nightmare, but as soon as he finally went to sleep, he didn't wake up again until morning. I just thought it was odd," continued Jetfire, before he released a heavy sigh. "Maybe I'm imagining things. Either way, I'll keep looking out for him, as long as I'm able to."

"I appreciate that. You're the friendliest of our 'bots and I think he'll be the quickest to trust you," said the commander with an encouraging smile.

Jetfire returned the comment with a quirked optic ridge, before he said, "Well he trusts you already. When the kids came back and you asked him to come inside, it looked like he almost seemed _betrayed_. I dunno, just a strange observation," responded Jetfire with a distant tone. "I guess I'm just getting paranoid of what Megatron might've done to Starscream…maybe it's a lot worse than what we're seeing right now."

After a moment of exchanging a heavy gaze, Prime leaned back with a nod. "Yes…and I have a feeling it will be."

* * *

><p>"Starscream, please, calm down," murmured Red Alert gently while, inch by inch, he maneuvered closer to the seeker. "If you'll be patient for fifteen kliks, we can have this finished and over with. I <em>need<em> to take fluids from you in order—"

"No, nope, nope, nope," whispered Starscream with the shake of his head as he pressed himself closer against the wall, fingers digging into the metal surface. "And you'll stay away from me with those needles, those tubes and those wires. You won't even come close," he snapped, turning his head downward so that his glare intensified, "understand me?"

Lifting a hand, the medic attempted to reach out towards the larger, who, in turn, growled and twitched into a stance of fierce defense. With a curt sigh, Red Alert withdrew and took a single step backwards as he sealed his lips, trying to imagine what Ratchet would do in this situation. Never had the younger medic had to deal with a patient who didn't want his services, let alone snap at him when he attempted to help. He also never had to yet deal with a phobia against medical personnel and surgical equipment. He'd been given classes about post-traumatic stress, but the hospital was what traumatized Starscream, and could possibly send him into a panic. What was worse was Starscream was supercharged from whatever Hook had done, and could, a moment's notice, turn on the medic.

"Listen, the anticipation of the act is much worse than the act itself," assured Red Alert as he came forward again, "trust me just once, Starscream, only _once_ and I can promise you that what I say is true."

Baring his teeth, Starscream snapped, "I swear if you come closer with that, you'll regret it."

Taking another step back, the medic breathed in slightly before he contacted Jetfire over a private comm.: _'Please tell me you're not busy.'_

There was a moment before, _'If trying to beat Hot Shot playing 'Hot Cars'—'_

'_Then you're not. I need you in the medical bay immediately. I can't get Starscream to calm down from the panic he's in and you're the best at this sort of thing,'_ stated the doctor, although there was a pleading note in his tone, begging to Primus he wouldn't get distracted or have some other duties requiring his 'attention'.

Thankfully the shuttle responded, _'No problem, I'll be there in a second.'_

"Starscream, please, it can't help that you're in a corner. Just sit on the bed for a moment and let me check your vitals," murmured Red Alert with the greatest ease he could muster. Although he'd been in situations that could crush the mental capacity of even the sturdiest mechs, the red and blue mech couldn't feel totally safe with Starscream's unbalanced nature. From what he heard from Scavenger, Decepticon medics were few and far between, and they constantly used that to their advantage. He couldn't imagine what kind of 'doctor' Hook could possibly be, and how hard it would to get his attention without Megatron demanding his time for experiments and other unnecessary procedures.

Without a single word, the seeker watched Red Alert for a brief moment, taking in his statement as if he were attempting to decipher a lie. Clearly deciding the other was safe, Starscream stepped away from the wall and wandered to the surgical bench, slipping to seated position while watching the other like a predator would his prey. A shiver tingled down Red Alert's spinal cords at the gaze, briefly, and regrettably, he wondered how Starscream now performed on the battlefield. Quickly, the doctor thrust the thought from his processor as he reached for the reader, placing it on the orange glass plane on the seeker's front.

"How was your health before you came to us?" asked the medic while keeping optic contact on the reader. He couldn't look into Starscream's blue orbs again without getting a second shiver, and he didn't want to make an already paranoid flier more frightened. Or threatened, which seemed to be the better word choice.

"Health?" repeated Starscream with a snort, "Survival was more like it. Battle injuries were patched and left to heal with hope of no infection. We were fed just above hunger, and that was the higher ranks. At least, that's what it was like for me. Those who performed better were allowed more 'privileges', better service, more time, more energon. I was usually not among such members."

"Not even for your hacking skills?" wondered Red Alert as his disgust for Megatron grew to new heights.

"I don't think Megatron ever saw hacking as a real 'skill'. It certainly helped from time to time, but when you can blow up the building containing the scientists rather than ruining their research with a virus or gaining such knowledge through secret download, I think he preferred the more violent and easier method. Besides that, Soundwave is a far superior hacker in every tact and form than I am, or any group of hackers. I have a question, though," stated the seeker as his optics flicked towards the syringe and then back to Red Alert, "have you ever faced a wounded Decepticon?"

Suddenly, the door swished open with a white character filling the entrance, Jetfire grinning as his optics fell upon Starscream's figure. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," muttered the other as he dropped his gaze to the floor.

Surprised by the action, the medic stepped back, observing Starscream's reaction to the second's appearance with interest. He would need to delve into said reaction later, rather, he glanced at the shuttle and said, "What do you want?"

"Good morning to you, too, Mr. Sunshine," returned Jetfire with a falsely defensive tone, but continued to proceed into the room without hindrance. Standing next to Starscream, he lifted himself to sit beside the red seeker, much to the other's shock and dislike. "I've come to check on the new addition, thank you very much. Has he been torturing you, Starscream? He does it to all of us."

"Uh," responded Starscream as he struggled for an appropriate answer.

Luckily the larger continued before he could reply: "I figure it's his way of getting off. But don't worry, I have things to blackmail him with."

_Augh, not that…_grumbled Red Alert to himself as he mentally sighed.

"What's that?" asked the crimson one.

Jetfire optics fired up as he lifted his arm and curled it around Starscream's shoulders, despite the seeker flinching. Pulling the other close, he said, "Listen to me, Starscream, every Transformer has something they collect. For me, I collect recordings of every warrior I've fought with getting blasted drinking high-grade energon."

It took a moment for the seeker to ingest the shuttle's words before glancing up at him and asked, "_What?_"

"That's right," continued the white one as he used a hand to press Starscream's face close to his body, making the ex-Decepticon growl in annoyance. "It was since I graduated the Autobot Academy and we got plastered in the celebration. I got the twins, Hot Shot, Bumblebee, Mirage…but my real pride was the teachers. I got Jazz trying to hump everything in sight…absolutely classic."

"You mean the small one?" mumbled the other without noticing Red Alert grabbing his arm.

"Yes…the _smallest_ one, you mean. Tiny body, huge processor. Best strategist in the Autobot army! And the most hilarious drunk in the Autobot army. They call him Jazz for a reason; as soon he got tipsy, he would jump up on the tables and start dancing and, like the midget he was, his head wouldn't touch the ceiling so he could go on all night! Then as soon as everyone else was drunk enough, they would try to join him and usually fail," laughed the shuttle, "best moment was seeing Optimus getting cheered on to join him."

"Did he do it?" asked Starscream, unable to help himself. He couldn't even dream of spending a night with the Autobots, who'd been partaking in bloody, horrific battles for millennia, watching them completely lose themselves, especially not Prime. _Especially_ not seeing him get up on a table to dance like an idiot.

"Of course he did! And I've got it all captured. Funniest thing ever—he cocked his head so that it wouldn't hit the ceiling, but his balance was so horrible that he fell off within a couple kliks. He went down like a rock," giggled Jetfire with a devious grin, continuing with, "but nothing quite surpassed the time when all the highest-ranking officers got together and started dancing. The building shook, especially since Sentinel Prime almost kept falling."

Starscream's mouth dropped agape at the thought, his processor lingering on the idea again and again, unable to drift away. Sentinel Prime was anything but the drunkard type, but that might've been because he'd been almost crushed by the brute more than several times on the battlefield. Sentinel was everything and anything that Optimus wasn't: where the previous Prime was all about head-strong attacks, brute force, and military by numbers, the latter chose tactic and strategy, and a small, refined team to do the hardest missions. Attempting to imagine Sentinel anything but in his natural, barbaric state was difficult, to say the least.

"So, want to watch?" pushed the shuttle as he huddled closer to the seeker.

Starscream leaned away from the larger, although Jetfire kept his grip tight, taking that as a 'yes' before lifting his arm. With the touch of a few buttons, a panel lifted, revealing a small, black screen within, surrounded by several other buttons. "You have a holovid in your _arm_?" exclaimed Starscream.

"Well, technically it's a radar, infrared, sonar and whatnot, but it works as a holovid, too," grinned the white Autobot as he pressed a few more buttons and the screen filled with colors, showing a wobbly depiction of Prime, Jazz, and Sentinel, who were all very sloshed.

Half of the sound was muffled by the many 'bots screeching and yelling with drunk-soaked voices coaxing the three on. Sentinel, in all of his orange and red glory, made the ground thunder with his weight as Jazz and Optimus clung to him in their stupor. Through the blurry bodies, Starscream could make out several recognizable characters, including Ratchet, an expressionless Prowl, and Bumblebee. As everyone hobbled around, there was a great crash and the video swiped back to Sentinel, whose body was halfway through the floor.

Jetfire snickered. "I forgot about that."

"He _fell_ through the floor?" asked the seeker, his voice cracking slightly. He couldn't possibly keep his surprise to himself, no matter how hard he tried. One of the most ferocious Autobots of all time _just fell through the floor_.

Starscream continued watching, completely engrossed, as Jetfire hobbled up to the three Autobots who were the center of attention. Optimus and Jazz were rolling around on the floor, choking on their own laughter, as Sentinel came to terms with his predicament. The giant mech struggled against the floor, attempting to pull himself up, but was unsuccessful and fed the growing gaiety. Hearing Prime's overwhelming laughter was something Starscream never thought he'd ever experience. It rolled, drew him into it, created an emotion in the ex-Decepticon he'd long since forgotten. The crimson seeker couldn't help the small chuckle which rumbled in his chest. Watching Autobots getting plastered was hysterical—he almost wanted to imagine how it would be if he, too, joined in the festivities. Especially with Prime; Starscream wanted to see him dance and fall over.

"There we are," said Red Alert abruptly, distracting Starscream from the video.

The seeker, having been so engrossed, didn't realize Red Alert had prodded him with a needle, taken the fluids needed and was now finished. There was a bandage across the vital tube which the medic drew from, and there were two tubes sitting silently on a table next to them. The syringe, still tainted with a few small drops of energon, sat with a third vial attached to it. Starscream sat silently, the white Autobot and the medic watching him, waiting for a response. A hot, dizzying sensation crawled over Starscream's mind. Fuzzy, numbing, the young seeker waded back and forth as he attempted to cling to the land of the living.

"Are you alright?" asked Jetfire, his voice growing distant.

Another moment passed and Starscream lulled over the side of the surgical table, Jetfire and Red Alert quick to catch him. The two stared at one another with a surprised expression, having expected more of a violent reaction than Starscream fainting. Jetfire laughed a little, and Red Alert sighed.

"I suppose just let him lay down here until he wakes up," murmured the medic.

The second-in-command slid from the bench, brought the seeker in his arms and repositioned him. Resting Starscream's head gently on the metal surface, Jetfire stared at the ex-Decepticon for a moment before saying, "Well, that went better than expected."

Red Alert mumbled something, but his thoughts were elsewhere. It was obvious Starscream trusted Jetfire, even if he didn't know it himself. Most wandering mechs did, simply because Jetfire was a guiding force, powerful and bright, even in the darkest storms. The only problem, Red Alert inferred, was how the second-in-command would return the feelings.

* * *

><p>AN: Yay! Another completed!

Read and review, please!


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note_: Hi guys! A little faster update than before *laughs* hopefully it'll stay that way. I wanted to mention that I did some updating to the past chapters as well—I made a couple of changes (there's no such thing as "hamon" or "harmon" or whatever-the-fuck that was), plus I added more description, put in some more pretty words, just to make the story a little smoother. If you want, you can go back and read it again, but you don't have to. Just know: there's no such thing as "harmon" ("hamon"?) anymore. I made it so there's too much energon in Starscream's systems and that's what is making him sick. So yes! Thank you! Hope you like the chapter!

Zantick: I actually laughed out loud when I read your review. You are awesome.

Dragonbookattic: I appreciate the thoughtful review. Starscream has been a layered character from the beginning, but they definitely took new heights when they created Armada and I wanted to amplify that even further. And, if you think Hook is bad now, wait until you see what he does in the future.

P.A.W.07: Thank you! When I think of Soundwave, I always imagined him just as _Transformer's: Prime_ portrayed him, ninja-like, as you had mentioned. He's one of my favorite Decepticons and I couldn't resist putting him in here.

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Transformers.

_Chapter 6_: Mini-Con

"I found one!" Alexis cried, throwing her hands up into the air from her small, red laptop. "I actually found one on my own!"

Her voice went unanswered, however. Glancing around, she noticed, with a pout, that no-one was near to congratulate her on her accomplishment. Since Red Alert started teaching her how to monitor for Mini-Con signals using her dinky laptop, she was on the device during every minute of her spare time. It was a tedious, extensive task which no-one really gave her credit for, save for Optimus and Red Alert. Today was the day all her hard work paid off; deciphering the readings, searching for the tiniest details, sitting long hours until she was pretty sure her butt fell off.

"Hel-_lo_!" she yelled towards the large entrance into the main room, annoyed. "I found a _Mini-Con_!"

The young woman's stomach bubbled with excitement once more as metallic steps thundered down the main hall, unable to keep a giant grin from her face. She couldn't wait to rub it in Hot Shot's face—he always liked to poke fun at her for the slow pace of human technology. Red Alert was kind enough to upgrade her laptop's operating system to its maximum efficiency, but it was still like a tortoise compared to Teletran-1. Unfortunately, her tiny fingers (or arms, for that matter) weren't capable of utilizing the system properly.

Alexis drew back with surprise when one of the Autobots—or, rather, ex-Decepticon—came strolling into the room. Starscream immediately pinpointed the teenager, his blue eyes like lasers as he stared down at her. His massive frame made even the large entryway to the communications room seem tiny—he had to slide in sideways to keep his wings unscathed. The motion was smooth, though, and it was obvious he was used to the action. Taking a few more great steps towards her, he assessed her, her tiny laptop, and the image of Teletran-1's giant screen. Alexis flushed, despite herself, as she gazed up in awe at the red seeker. Even though Starscream had only been here a week or so, she felt immediately drawn to the 'bot. Hot Shot warned her to refrain from hyping him up too much (had grumbled something about Decepticon mood swings) but she was curious. Very curious. She guessed, although she wasn't completely sure, that Starscream was considered "attractive" by their species' standards. His perfect lines, the red, sleek paint, his grey face soft and quiet, even the large, paneled blue glass over his midsection was nice. She thought he was nice.

"You found a Mini-Con?" he asked.

"Yea," she said, gnawing her index finger.

His steady gaze remained on the screen. "Where?"

"About…a hundred miles away. Near Las Vegas," she boasted. Typing a few commands into her computer, the image zoomed into a more detailed, precise location. Starscream leaned in, seeming to memorize the coordinates, as Alexis examined more of his body. Like Jetfire, the ex-Decepticon's back was rigged with wires and plates, his two main, heavy thrusters sitting on his shoulders. He was not big and bulky like the white shuttle; rather, everything about him was thin, sleek and smooth. Like a young man.

"Oh! You found a Mini-Con!" exclaimed Hot Shot from behind her.

Alexis gasped in shock, the girl clutching her chest after the minor heart attack she just suffered. She was so engrossed at staring at Starscream, she didn't even hear the hefty steps of the Autobot from the hallway. Hopefully, Hot Shot didn't notice her ogling at the seeker. No doubt if he did, though, he would laugh at her later. For now, he seemed to be more focused on where the Mini-Con was and she was grateful.

"A Mini-Con," said Jetfire as he, too, entered into the room. "Awesome! Your first, Alexis. Good job."

"Thanks," she replied shyly, drawing invisible circles with her index finger on the steel floor next to her.

"Well, we better hurry up before _Megahead_ notices," mulled Hot Shot as he turned and began walking towards the transporter. He was always in and out the quickest, eager to put his speed to use. "You should hurry up and give us the coordinates to the Decepticon base, Starscream, so I can punch that egotistical dictator in the face."

"I already did," grumbled the seeker as he, too, turned around and followed the hot rod.

Jetfire noticed Starscream's intentions, even before the girl could, and quickly side-stepped in front of him and said, "Are you sure you're up to going out, Starscream? Megatron might very well show up."

"I hope he _does_," rasped the other as he easily passed the shuttle.

Jetfire remained behind for a moment, watching the other disappear around the corner of the corridor. His bright gaze moved to Alexis and he said, "He's…a little touchy today."

Alexis merely smiled and nodded, and the second-in-command also took his leave. Placing large headphones over her ears, Alexis tuned them into the Autobot's frequency so she would be able to give them information. Using government satellites and the Autobot's hacking equipment, it was a breeze to observe the battle from within the safe confines of the base. Now, if only Rad and Carlos had the sense to stay behind…. Red Alert appeared by the girl and she gave him a thumbs up, signaling she was ready to go along with protocol. The medic smiled at her, then moved his gaze to the screen, his expression hardening. Both human males, too, showed up in the room, obviously put out. Optimus must've told them they had to sit this one out and Alexis laughed at them.

"Not everyone has computer skills like you do, Alexis," grouched Carlos as he plopped down beside her. "Our skills are needed elsewhere, like in the field."

"Like getting in the way?" bantered the girl. "Or getting lost?"

"Hey!" said Rad, "We help, right Red Alert?"

"On occasion," replied the medic.

"See?" said the blonde.

"Yeah, whatever," mumbled Alexis as she continued typing furiously on her laptop. She zoomed down to a close range, satisfied when she saw that the Decepticons hadn't found the Mini-Con yet. Only two flying Autobots and two ground Autobots were blazing across the desert floor, storming up a furious dust cloud behind them. Alexis moved ahead to the location of the Mini-Con, and her lip curled with aggravation when she found it. "Uh-oh."

* * *

><p>"Uh-oh? Why did you just say <em>uh-oh<em>, Alexis?" asked Hot Shot as he zipped across the landscape.

'_It looks like the Mini-Con module is in a…problematic area,'_ she replied.

"Problematic?" repeated Optimus.

'_It's in a deep crevice in between two rock faces, and I don't think anyone is going to be able to fit in there…unless you strip Hot Shot of his ego,'_ replied the girl.

"Very funny," retorted the speedster, "my fan club. Well, I guess we'll just see what it looks like when we get there."

Naturally, both fliers reached the scene first. As Prime and Hot Shot rolled up, they saw that, indeed, the Mini-Con's signal originated from deep within the gap. The fit was tight; Jetfire definitely wouldn't be able to fit, nor would the larger transformers of their group. Even with his wings folded, Starscream wasn't sure he could slide through. Optimus sighed as he stared at the impending wall of rock, knowing they would either need to blast it or bring the humans in to reach it. Unfortunately, both were dangerous operations, both with risks he couldn't decide which were worse. "That goes in deep. I think we'll have to send in a Mini-Con," the Commander said.

"By themselves? Are you sure?" asked Jetfire. "They can get turned around pretty easy. We should've brought the humans."

_I guess that's where the humans' usefulness comes through,_ mulled Starscream to himself. Megatron wouldn't have hesitated to blow up the entire mountain just to get at the Mini-Con; but this way, they could get in and out without even being noticed. Interesting.

"Well, there's no way I can go in. Maybe you, Hot Shot?" questioned Optimus as he glanced at the other.

"I think I can fit," said Starscream suddenly.

Each Autobot turned and faced the ex-Decepticon, Hot Shot giving him a particularly strange look. "We're looking at _that_ one, bright-eyes," he said, pointing across from them.

Starscream returned the Autobot with his own glare. "That's why I can do _this_," the seeker snapped as he clenched his fists while his wings quickly, and neatly, folded behind him.

"That's a fancy trick," said Jetfire as he glanced at his own appendages.

Hot Shot wasn't impressed. "You're still a big guy, especially with your tube thingies! I think I might be the only one who can slip through, and I'll take Jolt. If I get stuck, toss me a rope."

The group watched, with a measure of amusement, as Hot Shot jogged up to the gorge and jumped straight into it. Jetfire, despite himself, couldn't help but burst out laughing as Hot Shot's body came to a jeering halt. The speedster grunted as he pushed against the ground, his metal feet digging in the dirt and his metal armor screeching as he tried to press himself further into the crevice. The more the small Autobot pushed, the harder Jetfire laughed, the goofy tone eventually spreading to the other members. Eventually, even the humans and Red Alert had joined.

"Are you just going to _laugh_ at me all day, or are you going to help?!" Hot Shot eventually snapped.

"I'm sorry," replied Optimus as he shook his head. "I'm afraid this isn't going to work, young one. The gap only grows tighter as you go deeper."

"That's what Jazz said to Optimus the first time he interfaced with him," quipped Jetfire.

Even Starscream couldn't hold back as the whole Autobot troop, save for the Commander himself, roared with laughter. Prime was left to buzz with embarrassment as his "military trained" warriors, even Starscream (so-called brutal ex-Decepticon), made fun of him. Optimus was positive the Decepticons did not make fun of Megatron like this. When did being "Commander" suddenly become such a loose title? They were practically hanging off each other!

'_What are you guys talking about?'_ said Carlos, the sound of Red Alert's laughter floating behind him.

Huffing with annoyance, Optimus grumbled, "Nothing, children. Very clever, _senior __officer_. I'll remember that for the next time."

"Don't feel bad, sir," said Hot Shot, "Jetfire hasn't hooked up with anyone since Iacon."

Jetfire abruptly stopped laughing and turned his aggravation to the stuck Autobot. "Shut up, you!"

"Enough, enough," said Prime with a stout tone, "we need to figure out how to get the Mini-Con, and quickly, before the Decepticons arrive."

"Well, looks like you'll have to get it yourself," said Hot Shot, referring to Jolt. The cherry Mini-Con chirruped as he split from his counterpart's back, jumped over his head, and, transforming into his alt mode, dived into the crevice. Sighing, Hot Shot glanced at his surroundings to see how he could possibly escape from his predicament while his Mini-Con was working.

Starscream, still imagining Jazz and Optimus dancing drunk on the table together, walked up to the thin gap. Hot Shot had managed to squeeze in about a hundred feet, and like Prime had mentioned, the gap was shrinking the deeper it went. Folding out his wings again, he removed his sword from his right shoulder and powered it up. He didn't know why he didn't think of this in the first place—his sword was hot enough to cut through metal, let alone rock. Slicing back and forth, the red rock surface easily fell away, opening up a hole large enough for them to get through.

"Great idea, Starscream!" exclaimed Jetfire. "I totally forgot about your sword, which is strange, since every time we met on the battlefield, you tried to slice me with it."

'_Ignore him,'_ mulled Hot Shot over a private comm. link.

'_It's fine,'_ returned the seeker as he continued to cut. He was just happy he thought of something which no-one else could. _'He's right.'_

As Starscream chopped back and forth, Jetfire and Optimus removed the excess rock left behind, so they would be able to get out easier. The ex-Decepticon sliced away the rock around Hot Shot, freeing him, before pursuing further. The pair exchanged places and the small Autobot followed the larger deeper into the cliff side, eventually disappearing into the dark. Jetfire sighed with an ounce of aggravation, realizing he and Optimus would be spending the rest of the afternoon moving these rocks, unless they figured out a way to speed up the process.

"Have you heard from Blurr?" asked Jetfire suddenly, seeing it as a good opportunity to ask.

"He checked in earlier this orn," mentioned the Commander, "he and Scavenger are on the verge of collecting the fourth Mini-Cons as we speak."

"I wanted to go to China," grumbled the second-in-command as he kicked a boulder away.

Optimus glanced at the other and, a smile shining through his optics, said, "I know you did. When the next opportunity arises, you, Starscream and I will go."

_That will be fun,_ Jetfire thought, his spark quickening when it shouldn't have. He really needed to get off the emotional ride he'd jumped on since Starscream arrived. "Sounds good, sir...and also reminds me…did you tell Blurr about Starscream?" asked the shuttle.

"I told Scavenger," replied the other.

Jetfire paused a moment and said, "You know Scavenger has a tendency to get distracted…you should tell Blurr yourself. The last thing we need is a firefight at the base."

Prime nodded. "Good point."

'_Well, that doesn't look suspicious,'_ said Carlos with a laugh in his voice. _'It looks like a giant whistle pig went to town on that wall.'_

'_What else were they supposed to do? Blow up the whole mountain?'_ wondered Alexis.

'_That's probably what the Decepticons would've done,'_ Rad sighed, _'and probably would've been a lot faster.'_

'_What's a whistle pig?'_ asked Jetfire.

'_Imagine a life-sized gopher and times that by six,'_ replied Carlos. _'They were everywhere when I lived in Colorado. They're really cute.'_

'_Hey, Starscream,'_ said Jetfire, _'you just got compared to a whistle pig.'_

The seeker halted for a second, cocking his head as he said, _'A what?'_

"C'mon, ignore him, keep going," urged Hot Shot as he gently prodded the red one's shoulder. Starscream heeded the other as he resumed weaving and chopping. The smaller Autobot pushed the boulders behind them, mentally hoping the rock was structured enough to not cave in on them. After a while, they both finally reached Jolt and the Mini-Con in stasis. Hot Shot's partner glanced up at the seeker and made an assortment of sounds, ones which the ex-Decepticon had no hope of deciphering. The speedster, fortunately, seemed to know exactly what he was saying.

"Sweet! Go ahead and touch it, Starscream," said Hot Shot.

Glancing at the younger mech, he said, "Really?"

"Well, _yeah_, I've already got a Mini-Con and so does practically everyone else. Jetfire's cocky enough as it is," chuckled Hot Shot as he crossed his arms, "plus…the little buggars like you, don't they?"

Starscream struggled with a decent response, but came up with nothing, only giving him a stupid expression. For the time Starscream had spent on this Primus-forsaken rock, Megatron had denied the seeker again and again for a Mini-Con. Now that he was quite physically and mentally unstable, the Autobots were going to just _give_ him one? The irony was too rich. The speedster merely laughed before urging him again, pushing him to finish up the job. "I want to go back to the base. Grab it already!"

'_You guys might want to hurry it up,'_ said Alexis with a tight tone. _'I think Decepticons are on the prowl.'_

A sudden explosion thundered at the mouth of the cave, making the entire mountain quake. Starscream automatically lunged for Hot Shot and the Mini-Cons, covering the smaller 'bot with as much of his body as he could. Boulders and dust rained down, colliding against his thrusters, the sensitive wiring, his folded wings. With a snarl, the seeker fought against the pain, the pressure, the ultimate and overwhelming sense of claustrophobia.

'_Starscream!'_ yelled the girl.

It was too late. The Decepticons were here.

* * *

><p>Optimus jumped, narrowly avoiding a barrage of bullets.<p>

"You're making this far too easy on me, _Prime_!" yelled Megatron as he rotated his aim, thousands of bullets chasing after the Autobot leader.

Barely tumbling behind a large boulder, Optimus flinched when Megatron fired upon him, the pellets eating away at the rock.

'_Just what Megahead needs, a fragging GATLING gun!'_ exclaimed Jetfire, having taken to the skies to avoid the attack.

'_You're at least in the sky, Jetfire,'_ grumbled the Commander as he took his shotgun from his subspace, trying to figure out a counterattack. As if Megatron's cannon wasn't enough to cause serious damage, he'd strapped a Gatling gun to the other side of his hip. The only thing good about that was he was weighed down, coupled with the fact he couldn't transform while having that thing on. At the same time, Demolisher was holding a giant canister of ammunition on his back, which meant he wouldn't be running out of munitions anytime soon. The Autobts were officially fragged. _'Starscream warned me he'd left a heavy artillery weapon behind before Megatron betrayed him.'_

Megatron paused his assault, snarling, "Come out, Prime!"

Optimus was half tempted to say no, but kept quiet, knowing he need to move fast and silent if he had any hope of gaining an upper hand. To make matters worse, two of his soldiers were buried, and one couldn't fly low unless he wanted to become a metal sponge. Once Prime could transform with Jetfire, their combined force would be enough to push Megatron back.

Soundwave sprung beside the Autobot, forcing Optimus out into the open. Megatron didn't pause one klik—a wave of brute firepower made Prime to run for his very life, and the only thing protecting him was the rocks which Starscream had cut away from the cliff side. As the Autobot leader avoided intense fire, he also had to match fists with Soundwave. The powerful mech swung his fists and feet as though he were only playing with the Autobot; Prime took one punch, then another, a hard kick, a swift snap to his arm, knocking the shotgun from his grip. Lunging, Optimus snatched it up, rotating his arm and firing at the lieutenant. Soundwave was fast—but not fast enough. The Decepticon's hip exploded in a burst of sparks and fluid and he screamed, leaping away from the Autobot.

'_Prime. There's a thin ledge where you can climb and Jetfire can swing down and get you,'_ said Red Alert over the comm. link. _'Use the rocks to your left for cover.'_

Optimus obeyed silently, bursting into a sprint to reach the side of the mountain. Megatron scathed the top of the boulders, doing a death march as he ranged closer to the Autobot. With a grunt, Prime leaped for the sharp incline, only to be thrown back by a mind-boggling explosion. Like a dead weight, the mech tumbled back to the hot, dry earth once more, debris, dust and rock cascading over him. Prime grunted with pain as his right shoulder slammed against a boulder, crunching the armor in a single moment. Rolling to the side, Optimus squeezed the wound with a hand, pink energon spattered over the broken armor. Cooling systems kicking online, Prime swiveled his head as much as he could to judge his surroundings, realizing his frame was only being blocked by a few mounds of dirt.

'_Prime, status,'_ said Jetfire.

'_I'm alright…my right shoulder was hit, though,'_ the Commander replied. _'Stay where you are. Your thrusters will throw around the dust.'_

'_Megatron's on his aft down there, sir,'_ said Red Alert. _'Move to cover, quickly!'_

As the medic had said, Megatron was caught unawares by the blast as well, the Gatling gun falling silent as he tried to protect himself from the downpour of rubble. The two leaders tried to gain their ground again as the dust settled, Optimus shaking himself of the stupor the intense explosion had thrown him in. Whatever had caused the blast from the mountainside did not come from above or around them—it came from within.

'_Optimus, it's Starscream!'_ yelled Rad into Alexis' link. _'He's ok!'_

Despite the good news, Prime realized it might be because of Starscream going into a trance again. He hoped—begged—that it was, in fact, the Mini-Cons doing for his sudden burst of power, but his protocols told him otherwise. Small bits of rock were still raining on them as Optimus strained to see through the red haze. Glancing around, he made sure Megatron was still stunned before skirting around the outside of the battlefield. However, it seemed the Decepticon leader could see him better than the other way around and a fray of bullets splattered around the Autobot's feet, making him dash for the nearest cover.

'_Optimus!'_ Jetfire exclaimed.

Within a klik, the shuttle zipped down to Prime's location. Taking his Commander's good arm, the white Autobot lead the other to a safer location, settling him against a rock. With a couple extra sheets of metal and a hand welder, Jetfire created a makeshift "bandage" around Prime's wound.

"No way for us to transform now," said the second-in-command with the shake of his head. "We're officially screwed."

"Can you hail either Starscream or Hot Shot?" asked Optimus.

Jetfire, again, shook his head. "I got a bad feeling about this, sir."

"You and me both," grumbled the Commander. "Can you see anything?"

Peeking his head around the boulder, Jetfire was immediately nervous. Starscream was most definitely conscious—whether to say it was actually "him" or not was another story. Hot Shot, however, was hanging like a doll from the seeker's back, the smaller Autobot's arms draped over his shoulders. Jetfire hoped Starscream didn't get any wild ideas and blast off into the air—the thrusters would be enough to melt Hot Shot's chassis. For now, it seemed, the ex-Decepticon wasn't even interested in moving, let alone flying. As a matter of fact, if it wasn't for the fact that Starscream's optics were a blazing white, Jetfire wouldn't have guessed he was awake. _What in the pits is he doing?_

"Starscream," said Megatron as he slowly apprehended the seeker, "you destroyed the whole mountain."

The Autobot's gaze flicked around the Decepticons, as he was distracted by picking out Starscream's details, he hadn't really noticed the damage. Of course, Megatron was right—Starscream had totally demolished the thick sheets of red rock into sandy mounds. What used to be a tunnel was now a gaping hole; exactly what they had been trying to avoid since arriving. Giant chunks were tossed two hundred, three hundred, four hundred feet from the cliff side, as if some giant had stomped through. Piles of red and orange dirt were exhaled from the blast radius; to really ice the cake, both the Decepticons and Autobots were coated in a rosy, dusty film. However, and Jetfire couldn't help but be relieved, he saw two tiny forms sitting in Starscream's hand. The Mini-Cons. _Thank Primus_. At the same time, Starscream was about as excited as the rocks which sat around him; his scowl as he glared back at Megatron was enough to send a shiver down Jetfire's spinal cords. It still felt all too recent since Ironhide had the same expression when facing Optimus.

"What's happening?" asked Prime.

"They're both alive. Starscream has the Mini-Cons. But…he's just…standing there. Not moving. He's staring at Megatron, and Megatron's just walking right up to him. What should we do, sir?" asked the second-in-command.

Optimus paused briefly, pushing back the pain from his shoulder to think clearly. "Starscream's going to do one of two things, Jetfire. He's either going to attack Megatron…" Prime and Jetfire exchanged glances, "…or he's not. If he doesn't…Megatron is going to take both Starscream and Hot Shot, plus the Mini-Cons, and I can't have that happen."

"I'll be ready to go in—"

"We will have to Powerlink, despite my shoulder," said Prime, "I've done it in far worse conditions, Jetfire. I'm not losing Hot Shot to Megatron, and _certainly_ not Starscream."

Jetfire was arguing with his Commander in his processor, but he kept his trap shut. He knew Optimus was right—he just hated Powerlinking when Prime was injured. Not only did it make the injuries worse, but linking with Prime's processor was more difficult when he was in pain. Unfortunately, it seemed to be most of the time.

Glancing back at Starscream, the white Autobot's spark jumped when he saw how close Megatron got—he was practically at arm's length and the seeker still hadn't moved. Jetfire touched Prime's forearm to signal when they needed to link, his tanks churning in suspense. Megatron seemed to be a little nervous himself; Starscream's expression was incredibly unsettling, plus his gaze glued to the Decepticon leader was like a predator watching its prey. Jetfire's entire body was growing so wound watching the two, he jumped when Starscream's free hand snapped out and grabbed the barrel of the Gatling gun and kicked Megatron—tearing the Decepticon from the weapon. Fast as lightening, the seeker pointed it at Demolisher and fired at his knees, causing the Decepticon to collapse. Another klik and Soundwave was on top of him, to which Starscream used to the weight of the weapon to smack the smaller Decepticon away. Soundwave was tossed thirty or forty feet from him, just by Starscream's sheer might.

"Oh slag," gasped Jetfire. "Starscream just put all three of them down."

"Thank Primus," sighed Optimus as he leaned his head back. "What did he do?"

"He just took back the Gatling gun and put down Demolisher. Or at least, I think he did. No, his arms are still waving all over," replied the white shuttle.

Megatron, even though the gun had been torn from his side, was still ready for a fight. With the help of his Mini-Con, his cannon powered up and fired upon Starscream, who jumped a sizeable distance away, leaving the gun behind. Demolisher cried out from the extreme heat, the blast just barely missing him, as the large weapon was reduced to black dust. Starscream slid with ease against the rubble, his expression as solid as before.

Jetfire felt a twinge against his electromagnetic field and turned just in time to hold back Soundwave, two blades extended from his arms. Throwing him back, both Prime and Jetfire snapped out their sidearms, firing upon the sleek Decepticon as he bounded away. Cursing in Cybertronian, Prime got to his feet, the pair standing back to back, waiting on the elusive lieutenant.

"I hate this guy," said the second-in-command, his hard gaze scanning the environment.

"He's not invincible," Optimus replied, "although he'd like you to think so."

There was another explosion, the ground trembling with its aftereffects, straining their audio receptors. Jetfire glanced towards Starscream—and paid for it. The shuttle cried out as a blade sliced into the fold between his wings and his body, directly into the softest cluster of wires. Pain rushed through his sensors faster than Jetfire could think, and his arm automatically pointed to the offender. Optimus swung his arm around and fired once, catching Soundwave by the hand, knocking one of the swords from his grip. The Decepticon fluidly leaped away from them, joining the other firefight. Jetfire barely took notice, his hand fumbling to put pressure on the wound, but incapable of doing so. The searing, burning sensation was so intense, his audio reception faded out. As the kilks passed, a dark, quiet wave sucked the second-in-command under like a spell. Prime took Jetfire's shoulder, but the shuttle was already offline, his limbs going limp, his pistol falling to the ground.

"Jetfire!" exclaimed the Commander. Optimus cradled the white Autobot in his arms, making sure his vitals were still intact. Soundwave must've found a pressure point—and in his most sensitive area. Energon was draining from beneath the underside of one his wings, and he couldn't reach it to stop the bleeding…

Suddenly, Demolisher was thrown directly over Prime, the Autobot grappling for his shotgun for defense. The large mech collided with the ground, grunting, before rolling to a halt. A groan resonated from the tank as he fell unconscious, his extra munitions gone and his armor melted in places. For having played no real part in the battle, he certainly received the butt end of it. Optimus lowered his firearm, knowing Demolisher wouldn't be getting back up anytime soon. With a growl, the Commander dragged Jetfire back to lean on the rocks, gently resting him against the cover. Taking his extra pistol with his hurt arm, Prime glanced over the boulders to observe the field again. No-one. There was absolutely no-one.

'_Red Alert?'_

* * *

><p>Hot Shot woke up with his helm crashing to the ground.<p>

Energon surged through his veins into an intense reaction from being totally knocked out to standing up and sprinting. Spinning around, he immediately saw Starscream and Megatron rolling around on the ground, throwing punches at each other. Judging by how much energon was caked on their faces, Hot Shot knew Megatron was straining to keep up with the seeker. They'd been locked in battle and, somehow, the smaller Autobot had remained unharmed for most of it. The last thing he remembered was having an entire mountain collapse on him and then black. Now—there was chaos.

Megatron, distracted by the now-awake Hot Shot, received a harsh wallop to the face. Starscream snarled as he lifted the purple mech from his body and tossed him away like he weighed no more than a skinny fembot. Hot Shot gaped at the incredible maneuver, still a little too disoriented to realize exactly what was going on. Starscream snapped to his feet and surged after the Decepticon leader, leaping like an animal onto Megatron's back. With a snarl, the seeker chomped down on the larger's neck, energon gushing from the wound as the Decepticon roared in pain. Megatron wrestled with the seeker, but Starscream's vice-like hold and his immense weight left the other without many options. Growling, the Decepticon's knees buckled and he lulled forward, trying to keep from falling over. One of Starscream's hand grappled over Megatron's chest, searching for something. His fingers found an edge—and started to tear his chassis open. As the seeker bent the right grey panel of his chest, the metal whining under the pressure, wires and thin, extra panels shined through.

He was going for the Decepticon's _spark_.

With this new revelation, Megatron found a sudden surge of strength and tore Starscream from both his neck and his back. Hot Shot lunged into action—only to have Megatron disappear right before him. Starscream bounced back to his feet, took a few steps and glanced around, as though someone had played a trick on him. Hot Shot sighed as he slid to a stop; he missed the entire fight. Megatron, and all his lackeys, were now safely back at their base. So close. Starscream had taken Megatron one-on-one and had almost dug his very hands into the Decepticon leader's chassis. Not only that, but he did it all with Hot Shot passed out. How did the smaller Autobot go about without getting attacked? Was Starscream protecting him?

"Looks like Hook snatched him up before you could kill him," said the speedster finally. The crimson one didn't reply, and as Hot Shot glanced around, he asked, "Do you have the Mini-Cons?"

Once again, Starscream remained quiet as he stood straight, his interest elsewhere than the other's inquiries. The silence was a little unsettling, so the speedster walked up to him and touched his shoulder, which was hot against his fingers. Starscream snapped around, glaring down upon the small Autobot with blindingly white optics.

"Starscream…" murmured Hot Shot cautiously, wondering if the seeker was going to turn his malice on him. After a few kliks, Starscream turned away from the other, walking up to a boulder and punching it with an accompanying scream. The one hit blasted the rock to mere pebbles, making Hot Shot twitch with anxiety. Starscream released a low growl after the assault, obviously he was just as hurt as he was when he'd met Megatron on the battlefield last time. Gaze glued to the seeker, Hot Shot murmured gently, "Starscream…there's always next time…you've got to give yourself some credit, otherwise you're gonna go crazy…Starscream, it's ok—"

"**IT'S **_**NOT**_** OK!**" screeched the ex-Decepticon, swooping low and close to the other.

Hot Shot froze and lifted his hands up. Everything fell still as Starscream's glare remained fastened on the smaller mech, the two simply staring at each other. After a moment, the seeker's cooling systems activated and Hot Shot said slowly, "Starscream…there's many, many others who feel the same way. You think you're the only one who Megatron's taken something from? I hate to tell you this, but it's time to realize, sunshine, that every time you see Megatron, _you're not always going to get him._"

"**You understand **_**nothing**_**,**" rumbled the other as he turned away while shaking his head. "**You understand nothing.**"

Hot Shot scoffed. "Starscream, _obviously_ you don't remember or was never told, but this isn't the first time Megatron's experimented on mechs. Who knows if you're the first he's 'changed' who was his own faction, but the point is you can't keep losing you're fragging processor each time we go into battle! It's not going to work! You're going to get yourself killed long before you kill Megatron. He's a psycho dictator, but he isn't nearly as stupid as you think he is."

Starscream fell quiet as he kneeled down, a scowl imprinted on his features.

The Autobot continued, "Like I said, dude, you're not the first to get pissed off at Megahead, and you won't be the last…Prime's been fighting him long before you were first sparked, and believe you me, he was just as bad back then as he is now." Stepping up to him, Hot Shot crouched as well, refraining from touching the seeker as he said, "What's more important is the Mini-Cons. Please, for the love of Primus, tell me you have the Mini-Cons."

Glancing up at the speedster, Hot Shot noticed with a measure of surprise that Starscream's optics were slowly darkening. As the white cooled into a soft blue, Starscream reached to his side and opened his subspace. Reaching in, he pulled out two small forms, Jolt and the other new, mysterious arrival. Hot Shot couldn't help but take his cherry Mini-Con into his hands again, relief flooding him. Jolt made a barrage of twittering noises as he climbed onto his partner's shoulder, as though assuring Hot Shot he was alright. Hot Shot couldn't imagine what would happen if his little buddy was harmed—or lost to Megatron. The other Mini-Con, who was white as snow with a red helm, remained in Starscream's hand, quietly observing his surroundings.

"You're going to keep him?" asked Hot Shot with a soft smile.

Starscream shook his head. "No," he replied, toggling with his voicebox. Once again, his tone sounded weak, trembling, all notes of malice gone. "He's a medic's Mini-Con."

"He sure has a lot of power if he helped us get out from under that mountain," murmured the other with a nod. Starscream remained quiet and Hot Shot exchanged a glance with the ex-Decepticon, the younger mech understanding the silent message. The speedster sighed, "You blew up that mountain, didn't you?"

"...Yea."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note<em>: It's interesting, fighting scenes seem so slow when you're writing them.

AND one more thing (and this _is_ important): later on in the story, I'm going to have to change the rating to "M". I don't know whether giant robot sex accounts for being mature (in my story, they definitely don't they same parts and bits as humans do), _but_ I don't want to get in trouble with the site and it's an essential part of the plot to have interfacing. Therefore, if you're reading this and can't access stories which are rated "Mature", then let me know and you can shoot your email and I can send it to you, or I'll figure out something. Thank you guys!

Please read and review!


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note_: Hi! Look at that! I was a good girl and updated within a reasonable time. I'm happy with myself! And I'm pretty happy with this chapter, considering. Thank you all for your feedback—and with helping with the couple other matters.

Ultra Chaos: AH! Thank you for noticing, I'll have to revise that again *shot* I can't believe that didn't sink in when I was rewriting it.

R: Thank you for the insight! I wasn't totally sure, and I think the site blocks certain users from seeing M-Rated and I wanted to avoid that.

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Transformers.

_Chapter 7_: Ratchet

"Fragging useless."

Optimus released a heavy sigh, a behavior he'd picked off of Rad, as he let his head lull to the side. "You were not useless, Hot Shot. You were unconscious. There is a difference."

"Doesn't feel that way," grumbled the young mech as he aided Prime away from the space bridge.

Starscream came in directly behind them, carrying Jetfire in his arms as though he weighed nothing. Although Jetfire was significantly larger than most mechs, the seeker had easily hoisted the shuttle onto his back, arms hanging over his shoulders. Starscream recognized why Soundwave had stabbed the white Autobot there—a pressure point. Right where the wing met the rest of the mech was one of the most sensitive areas on a flier's body (including seeker types). The Decepticon would've done more damage, if Megatron hadn't called the lieutenant back first (then Starscream knocked him out, too, before returning to fight with the Decepticon leader). Striding past the two other 'bots, the seeker swiftly moved through the halls and disappeared to the med bay. Hot Shot ensured to take it slower with his Commander leaning on him (plus, Optimus was heavy).

"Thank you," said the blue and red mech suddenly, "for bringing Starscream back to us."

The smaller Autobot grinned slightly, saying, "It was the Mini-Cons more than me. I think Screamer, there, has a soft spot for our tiny counterparts. Although, it might be because they don't speak the same language."

Optimus glanced at the young soldier with a quirked optic ridge before the two both chuckled at the thought. Giant, mean, unsociable Starscream enjoying the company of bubbly, sweet Mini-Cons? It was something Hot Shot could poke fun at him later on down the road. As the pair rounded the corner, a familiar face was waiting for them.

"You're such a youngling, Prime," grumbled a gravelly voice, "can't go anywhere without getting _blown_ _up_."

Both mechs turned their gazes upward, and Optimus couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

><p>Jetfire groaned in pain as his optics came online.<p>

"Welcome to the world of the living."

The shuttle groaned again. Red Alert. Shifting a little on the metal surface and slowly moving his head to the side, Jetfire realized with an ounce of frustration he was in the Autobot base's medical bay, laying face-down, his back exposed. He'd left Optimus completely vulnerable, at the behest of Soundwave. A pillow of gauze was pressed against his wound, his wing moved out of its usual place.

"Everyone came back?" asked the second.

"Everyone's here," replied an annoyed Ratchet from his right.

"Ratchet the Hatchet," said Jetfire cheerfully, turning his head towards the orange 'bot. An obedient Optimus was sitting on the other silver berth, getting his shoulder repaired. Ratchet, in all his bright orange and white glory, was sitting just beneath him. The pain shrinking for a moment as a smile spread beneath Jetfire's faceguard. "Did I tell you how much I missed you in my last transmission?"

"All the more than the last," returned the hardened mech, bolting another screw into Prime's shoulder. "This time you two managed to really screw it up, though!"

"Hey!" cried both Commander and his second.

"Don't give me any excuses," snapped the other back as he bolted another, hitting a soft spot and making Optimus grunt. Totally ignoring him, Ratchet replaced the armor there and slathered another helping of numbing agent to the area. "You two are a more destructive pair than Jazz and Prowl—at least one was a tactics officer and the other a computer geek and could get work done! You two are just running around like misplaced younglings in the city, trying to figure out where all the missing toys are."

"We got the Mini-Con," muttered Jetfire with a huff from his surgical berth. "I think we're doing awesome."

"_Awesome_?" repeated the other mech. "I'm shocked you have as many Mini-Cons as you do! You might have a defected Decepticon, but that doesn't do slag when Megatron's sticking his super-charged cannon up your aft!"

Starscream, who watched with shock from the shadowed doorway, felt a chill come over him at the sight of those two getting chewed out. The Bearer of the Matrix, being scolded like a sparkling, with his second-of-command, the best flier known in the Autobot military, just the same…how did a mere doctor get away with it? Besides that, in the small time himself that the Autobots returned to the base, the medic had managed to completely put Prime's arm back together, and was now working on patching every other dent and split wire, while _also_ yelling at the two high-ranked mechs. Good thing the humans left the base before seeing the terrifying medic.

"Things have taken a different turn than we suspected, I hope you'll know," said Prime with an irritated tone. "We've had to adjust!"

"You think Sentinel Prime _adjusted_ when Megatron kicked off his head? I don't think so! I don't know what you think you're going to do with this mess of a plan, but it's not getting very far very quick! Plus, you haven't considered the change of environment, the indigenous population, the actual _recovery_ of the Mini-Cons and how they would affect battle tactics! Plus," he said, glancing at Jetfire, "if what findings you've brought to me of Starscream is true, Megatron's lack of respect for life has dropped to an entirely new low! You two have completely lost your _processors?!_"

The pair went silent for a moment, Jetfire's wings slumping. Even Megatron wasn't so focused with his angry rants—he'd managed to explain each of their battle flaws in a matter of a few sentences.

"This is routine," mentioned Red Alert.

Gasping softly, Starscream straightened and turned to the other mech, but after a moment, he relaxed. "He's…not what I expected," he returned quietly.

"He's been in the military for the longest, even for a doctor," continued the younger medic, "he's legendary, not just because of his skills, but because he and Prime went to the Autobot Academy together. Back then, the Commander was…hrm…how do I put this…"

"Uninhibited?" supplied Starscream, returning his gaze to the other Autobots. Even Hot Shot was quiet, standing in the opposite corner of the med bay as he watched his two senior officers.

Red Alert turned to him and smiled. "Yes, exactly. Ratchet always kept him on his feet; it keeps him focused, but also Ratchet wouldn't tell him any other way. It's just how he is—you'll get used to it."

"You think I'll be around for that long?" wondered the seeker, half to himself.

"I would imagine so," returned the other. "But I just want you to be aware of how Ratchet operates. You'll be spending a bit more time with him, and he's very aggressive with his patients, whether you're previously Decepticon or not."

Starscream didn't say anything—he wasn't really sure how to reply anyways. 'I'm glad I saw the error of my ways by being turned into a living experiment'? No.

"Looks like you have a fan club," observed Red Alert, his tone turning to a cheery note.

Glancing down, the red seeker noticed the Star Saber Mini-Cons and a few others, all staring up at him with interest. He wouldn't have noticed them if the medic hadn't pointed them out, they were so quiet, even being in such close radius. Unsure of what to do, Starscream knelt down, reaching out his hand. Mini-Cons always reminded him of younglings—and he wasn't good with either. The six miniature mechs clustered around, climbing on him and sitting down on various parts—head, shoulders, forearms.

"Um," said Starscream to the medic, as though he'd made a mistake. "I…I don't think…"

Red Alert saw the struggling flier and helped removed the tiny bodies from his frame; he couldn't help but smirk as he saw Starscream carefully put the Mini-Cons back on the ground. He wondered if, in the past, the red flier behaved the same way around younglings as he did here.

Starscream wondered why the Mini-Cons were bothering him at all; not that he really cared, but unless he found a Mini-Con of his own, they shouldn't be so attached to a single mech. Plus, they just…stared at him. When the Decepticons had a plethora of Mini-Cons back on Cybertron a million years ago, they did not stare at mechs like they did to him now. Maybe there was a link to his "condition".

Before the ex-Decepticon could voice his opinion, Ratchet suddenly appeared at the door, wiping his hands of excess grease and oil. "Bumbling fools. And don't think you're out of my line of sight, Red Alert. You should be watching those two to make sure they don't get themselves blown up. Understood?"

"Yessir," replied the medic. Starscream recognized the attitude; don't argue with someone who just chewed out Optimus Prime.

"Starscream," said Ratchet, getting the flier's attention. "The _actual_ reason of my being here. You look like slag, let's go to quiet office to talk."

"Yessir," he replied.

* * *

><p>"Sit down," said the medic, pointing to a chair.<p>

Starscream did as he was told, even as he watched Ratchet round Prime's desk and sit in the chair opposite of him. The ex-Decepticon had always been baffled by the Autobot medic named Ratchet—simply because, for such a short, hulky mech, he was very quick and fast-thinking in battle. He was plain with an ordinary box shape and no real weapon attachments, save for a cannon in his right arm and a welding tool in his left. Only once did Starscream meet the infamous orange Autobot in the middle of a firefight…and decided it would be the last time he wanted to. Starscream was certain he would've been able to take the mech alone…until Ratchet tapped a nerve wire in his neck, and stabbed him with so many drugs Starscream couldn't talk straight for joors. Megatron used the seeker as a point to never get too close to a medic in battle—_especially_ Ratchet.

In one hand was a couple datapads, probably having all of seeker's information on them, and in the other hand were two cubes of energon. The doctor slid one over to him, then opened his own and took a sip, keeping his gaze on Starscream. The ex-Decepticon stared at the cube for a klik, debating if he wanted to enjoy it now and throw it up later, or drink nothing and dry heave instead. The idea of either made the desire to drink anything seem revolting.

Rather, Starscream decided to take up conversation to end the annoying silence between them. Plus, the medic just kept staring at him. "I suppose this isn't a first for you."

Ratchet remained quiet for a moment, then rested his own energon cube on the desk. "No, it isn't."

"Should I consider myself lucky?" he asked.

"At some points, yes, others, not so much," replied the old mech. "I wouldn't consider you 'lucky' in retrospect, however."

_I knew that already,_ thought the seeker.

"Let me tell you something, Starscream," said Ratchet as he leaned forward, gather the younger's attention, "I've been a medic all my life. Since I was sparked, I was meant to do this job and it's all I've ever known. One thing I've come across dealing with other doctors is how a sense of ethics can mean a great deal between life, death, and the medium. Hook is a despicable doctor and scientist, one of the worst who have come across my field. He's done things to mechs that even _Megatron's_ been mortified by and over the millennia, he's only gotten better at it. At this point, you're his most…'refined' experiment. If you didn't escape, I would have no shadow of a doubt that the Autobots would be in a serious battle with a mindless, powerful and very obedient Decepticon once known as Starscream. So, you are lucky because you escaped…but unlucky because you're halfway in between being a mech…and being something else."

Starscream steadied himself, realizing that he'd been fidgeting through Ratchet's speech. "Is there…a possibility that I can be brought back to my old self? Or…am I going to die?"

The office was quiet for a moment, the question bold in itself. "It's difficult to say," replied the doctor, "there's a lot of things going against you right now—the biggest is because we don't know what exactly Hook did to you. When you start fiddling around in a mech's spark and processor, things can go bad, very easily. You have to know exactly what you're going to be doing and how, with an immense amount of focus and foresight. The fact that you escaped it all…it's an incredible thing that you didn't just deactivate. Besides that, to go in and try to 'fix' you might lead to more damage than doing any good. You could end up going insane…or becoming nothing other than a husk. What's happening inside you might cause a chain reaction in your frame that will just…it's just too much risk at this point."

"There's _nothing_ you can do?" whispered the red seeker, feeling his spark tighten in his chest like crushed metal. "I'll have to be like this forever?"

"There's no such thing as forever," said Ratchet, "and there's a lot of things that could make me end up being a liar. If I could get a hold of the datapads that have the surgical notes and procedure, then it'd be a very different story. If somehow you were able to remember enough, and if I were able to infer with that information exactly what Hook did by having to deal with past incidents like this, then it would also be different. Also, if I were to watch you for enough time and recognize what's going on from past experience, then it might be possible as well. However, by Red Alert's reports," he said as he picked up a couple of the datapads, tapping them, "you're the first of whatever Hook's trying to achieve."

"What if I _could_ get Hook's datapads?" asked Starscream, already building a plan in his processor. "If I could somehow get them to you, do you think…?"

"As I said before, Starscream, until I know exactly what Hook did to you, there's no use prying open your processor. However, I don't think it will be easy to find the datapads you're looking for. As insane as Hook might be, he's not stupid. He knows the value of those datapads and will be protecting them just in case you get any ideas. Plus, it's a type of mission you'll have to take up with Optimus," he said as he leaned back into the chair. "If all you're seeking to do is get those datapads, I don't think Optimus will be too keen. It would require resources and manpower, unless you went by yourself, which has the risk of you being captured again."

"What if we could get Mini-Cons?" wondered the ex-Decepticon. "While Prime is getting the Mini-Cons, I can interrogate Hook. He's a mad scientist, but he doesn't have any hulk to him."

Ratchet smirked at this comment, before saying, "Like I _said_, you'll have to speak with Optimus. I've given my verdict, and it's up to you what to do with it. In the meantime, I'll be doing some routine check-ups and I want to begin a schedule with you. That way, if something is off, we'll know exactly when, where and how."

Starscream scowled, feeling the creepy sensation of claustrophobia blanket on him. He was a very private mech (as boisterous as he might be about certain things), and usually kept to himself, if he could. To be followed around by some turbo hawk would cross every threshold of personal space he knew. "You think…that's necessary?" he asked.

Ratchet gave him a flat look. "You want to argue about it?"

"I just don't like the idea of being followed around," muttered the seeker.

"Alright…well, first of all, I need to know where you're at if you have a medical emergency, second, having someone with you will keep the other Autobots at peace with having an ex-Decepticon around, and thirdly, I need to know your daily habits so I could make your condition as comfortable as possible," he said, quick as lightning, before he leaned forward again and said, "now it's your turn. Give me three _good_ reasons why."

Starscream was baffled by the doctor's statement, flustering to try and thing of a good reason, but in the end sighed and gave up. "Nevermind."

"That's what I thought," said the medic with narrowed optics. "Don't worry, you won't be stuck with one annoying mech, you can be rotated to have someone else spend time with you."

_Joy_, grumbled Starscream to himself. "Hypothetically…if I find all the datapads and you were able to perform the surgery…do think I'll be able to be my old self again?"

Ratchet held the seeker's gaze for a moment, his blue optics burning with gust of a young mech, before he said, "Do you want me to be honest with you, Starscream?"

After briefly considering it, the ex-Decepticon decided he didn't want to be lulled anymore; he had enough of the lying and the cheating after having spent so much time with Megatron. "Yes."

"You're never going to fully recover from this, even if I do everything I can possibly do for you. The spark and the processor are two halves of the same whole—you mess with one thing, the other will forever be damaged. You mess with both…well, you understand. Ironhide is the best case of this…he has to struggle every day to gain control over impulses and desires, and he will never be the physical shape he once was and it's been a millennia since he went through what Megatron did to him," said the doctor quietly. "You, too, will never be the seeker that you were before the surgery."

* * *

><p>"Starscream?" asked Jetfire.<p>

"Leave me alone."

Jetfire mentally sighed. He would do just that and allow the seeker some peace, but he had actually been order as the first 'bot to be on "Starscream-sitting" duty. Optimus, knowing Starscream would easier deal with the sudden invasion of privacy by someone he trusted, immediately put the shuttle to work, despite his injury. After being patched up and a mild painkiller, the Soundwave's strike actually wasn't all that bad and (after getting back on his feet), Jetfire noticed Starscream march outside with a somber attitude.

The white shuttle reached around and scratched his side, trying to quell the throbbing from where his wound was healing. A cool evening breeze slipped over the red cliff of their base, rustling some of the dried-out bushes and short palms trees. Starscream was standing just on the edge of the cliff with arms crossed, watching the star-studded sky silently and alone. With some reserve, the second-in-command took a couple steps towards the ex-Decepticon.

"I…know there's not a lot I can say, but…" started Jetfire, as gently as possible.

Glancing over his shoulder, Starscream locked gazes with the Autobot for a moment. Then, turning to his left, the seeker took a car-sized boulder and tossed it from the cliff with a scream. Jetfire remained frozen as he watched the hulk of rock float through the air and finally collide with the hard ground below. The boulder split into several pieces, but the other was already turning to his next victim, yet another large rock, and did the same, over and over again. When all objects had been tossed from their vantage point and turned to rubble below, Starscream stood on the very edge and screamed for a long, hard breem. Jetfire ventured closer, making sure he didn't tumble over the mountain. The seeker's cry became lost within the black desert, fading into the darkness. When the ex-Decepticon was done throwing his tantrum, he slid down, settling with his legs over the edge. Back hunched, Starscream only shook his head as he murmured things to himself.

"Starscream," said Jetfire, kneeling beside him.

"I said leave me alone," muttered the seeker.

The white Autobot didn't move, but didn't say anything either. It was hard to imagine what Starscream might be feeling—although Jetfire couldn't deny he had his fair share of tantrums throughout this war. Too many mechs lost, too many femmes, too many younglings…and there was nothing he could do to bring them back. The shuttle assumed the seeker had a disappointing chat with Ratchet, although 'disappointing' would be a mild term. Starscream would never, totally own himself again, and Jetfire figured _that_ was really torturing the 'bot. For millennia, he'd watched the ex-Decepticon battle everyone around him—Megatron, Optimus, Autobots and Decepticons alike, but most of all himself. On more than one occasion Starscream daydreamed about being the Decepticon leader himself, but never became collected enough to be a real threat to Megatron. Whenever the seeker came to taste a true, uninhibited power, he always somehow screwed it up for himself. At the end of the line, Megatron remained on top of the pyramid, and Starscream was left to deal with the dictator's onslaught for his "insolence". But, when everything else was torn away from him, he still had his name, which was something no-one could take. Although he carried a love/hate relationship for that name, he would forever be Starscream—except, now, he wasn't really. He'd been rebuilt into something else.

"Maybe…" the seeker began, almost in a sneer, "maybe this is my punishment? Maybe this is what I get."

Jetfire slid his legs over the edge of the cliff, leaning over so he could see Starscream's face. The ex-Decepticon turned away from him, though.

"I just wanted some fragging respect," he went on, "I can't fight, I can't control my own troops, I can't listen to orders. The only thing I _can_ do is worthless, or isn't good enough. So I finally have power, but even then I'm not…"

As the red one's voice trailed off, the Autobot gathered Starscream was tipping on the emotional tide. Ratchet must've really laid down the heavy load on the ex-Decepticon, and Jetfire felt bad for the mech. Sometimes Ratchet was so straightforward (especially about one's own health), it really threw his patients a loop. Tentatively, the shuttle reached for Starscream's shoulder. The seeker didn't do anything, didn't say anything, so Jetfire moved a little closer. Suddenly, Starscream's wings drooped and he slouched, bringing a hand over his face.

"No matter how many battles I fought," muttered the seeker. "No matter how much good advice I gave or how many weapons I made for him…"

"Starscream," Jetfire said softly.

"No matter how many fights won…"

Gently, the Autobot urged the other closer, sliding an arm around the red one's torso and grabbing his arm. Starscream sought the comfort, the warmth of Jetfire's spark, leaning back into the second-in-command's larger shoulder. However, he still wouldn't remove his hand, even though the shuttle could see the pink energon tears smeared over his cheeks. The shuttle allowed Starscream his pride, but he knew the contact would help ease him.

"Starscream, that doesn't matter now," murmured Jetfire. "Want to know why?"

After swallowing the rock in his throat, the seeker replied, "Why?"

"Because you're an Autobot now," replied the shuttle. "Directly under the illustrious Optimus Prime, no less."

Starscream fell silent, cycling a haggard breath of cool air. Jetfire's statement was so blunt, he wasn't really sure how to respond. Megatron was all he'd known. In the short time he'd spent with the Autobots (a whole week and a half Earth time) versus the time he'd been alive (millions of vorns), he didn't imagine ever living a moment without somehow being reminded of the Decepticon leader in some way. Being an actual "Autobot" hadn't sunk in since he'd arrived—he felt more like an ex-Decepticon in the midst of Autobots. Joining the Autobots was his excuse to get back at his leader, like interfacing with someone else to make a spark mate jealous. It actually felt good to see Megatron so annoyed, to see him fight to get Starscream back in his ranks. At the same time, the seeker knew exactly what waited for him when he returned to them—the surgical bench. He would be tied down and pried open faster than the mech could blink. No, he couldn't go back.

Jetfire was talking again. "Being an Autobot…is so much more than just trying to defeat Megatron. If you give it a chance, you might be surprised. Give yourself an opportunity to focus on something else, a chance to pull all your attention from Megatron."

Starscream didn't know what to say. His processor was so cluttered with everything, he was unable to sift through the mess fast enough to reply. What Jetfire said made sense, it was the "logical" thing to do. It would keep the seeker alive long enough to kill the bastard, not to mention would throw the Decepticon leader off guard. But…

"You've gotta trust Optimus, Starscream."

Trust? Starscream was dubious, in the very least. "Is that what _you_ would do in my position?" snapped the seeker, intending each word to come out as harshly as it did.

Jetfire paused momentarily, as though really pondering the question and completely ignored the other's tone. _Blasted Autobot._ Starscream, in the meantime, was beginning to come down from his particularly vulnerable moment and felt uncomfortable sitting against the white Autobot's shoulder. They were so close he could feel Jetfire's spark thud against its casing, the warm energy spreading through the shuttle's armor and against his back. He wasn't sure how Autobots did things, but he knew Decepticons were not the most physical bunch. The seeker especially noticed the way the Jetfire's arm was wrapped around his torso, his hand resting on the glass of Starscream's cockpit. It was too intimate for the red one's liking, but before the seeker could move, Jetfire finally responded: "I probably would've done the same you did. I would've joined the opposing faction. I mean…any leader's gotta be a better leader than one who experiments on his own soldiers. In the very least, I would try to come to terms with what happened. Most of all, I would have to make sure I learned from what happened. Why would my own leader betray me? And what would I do to keep that from making me suffer? And, if whatever was happening was affecting my health, would I spend my remaining time trying to get revenge, or would I spend it doing something which made me happy?"

The last sentence really struck a chord. Jetfire continued to babble, but Starscream remained on those words. _Would I spend it doing something which made me happy?_ The seeker wanted nothing more than to get revenge—he really did. He wanted to punch the very life from Megatron's core and laugh as he watched the Decepticon's optics grow dim. But, he _could_…since he was no longer with the Decepticons…

He could do anything he wanted.

He could explore again, or finally go the Academy. He could conduct his work as a scientist, maybe try to find a way to cure himself. Maybe he could build a giant cannon for the Autobots and watch Prime blast Megatron into nothingness. The thought made Starscream smirk, despite himself. He wouldn't be pulling the trigger, but he could give Optimus the means. Plus, he would be doing something he was actually good at. Building things. Designing useful experiments. The idea gave Starscream a far-off look, instilling the same eager, pensive emotions he felt whenever he dwelled on things like that. Science. His true calling. How ironic it seemed, then, that the scientist became the experiment in the end.

"Starscream?" asked Jetfire suddenly. He must've realized the seeker wasn't paying attention to his unending chatter.

"Sorry," mumbled the other, "I was thinking of Cybertron."

Starscream could practically feel the sense of earnestness from the Autobot. "Thinking of the Academy?" he wondered.

"Yes," answered the seeker.

"I ended up going there for a little while," said the shuttle.

Not thinking, Starscream turned to Jetfire with wide optics and exclaimed, "_You_?"

A soft, rumbling laughter resonated from the Autobot's chest, reminding the seeker of Optimus. Jetfire's golden, molten optics were bright against the inky blackness of the night. "I know, a strange thought. I wanted to explore. Y'know, being a shuttle I had a lot of offer. If I had my way, I would've been able to take up a partner and spent vorns out in space, been able to see all sorts of things. In the war, I've still been able to see a lot, but not quite like I've wanted to."

"Is that what you would do if you were me?" asked the seeker quietly.

Jetfire cocked his head and immediately answered, "No."

Starscream was a little surprised. The way he was describing…"Why not?"

"As much as I would've liked to, I wouldn't be able to leave without knowing, in some way, I could help bring Megatron down, even if it meant I was scrubbing dirty floors. I wouldn't want anyone to experience what happened to me, too. That's why I actually dropped from the Academy and joined the Autobots in the first place," replied the shuttle.

The seeker went quiet, turning again to face the horizon. Selfless, foolish Autobot. He should've guessed in the first place—he was much like Prime when it came to Autobot cause.

"Is that…what you think I should do?"

Jetfire thought briefly, then, "What you want to do is your choice, in the end. But, if it's any consolation, I think you'd make a great Autobot."

Starscream snorted and shuttered his optics, hardly believing him. The white shuttle, slag him, had a good point, though. He wouldn't be able to focus on any experiments, even if he returned to Cybertron and started them. Too much had taken place, too much of his spark was in this war to stop until the ride was finished. In addition, the seeker still wanted an opportunity to give Megatron a good, decent beating for all the things he'd done, and he started to actually enjoy the company of some of these wayward mechs. Starscream would've never known how much personality Jetfire really had, and, unlike a lot of Decepticons, tried to understand the seeker's feelings. As pathetic as it sounded, he appreciated the white Autobot's attempts. Although Starscream had been changed in many ways, he still liked attention, in all of its assorted forms, and this was the first time in a long time the attention had been positive. Perhaps it was because Jetfire was an airborne Transformer as well, but Starscream imagined it was also because he was an explorer. They were alike on many levels—they had just taken two different paths. Starscream glanced at the shuttle and saw him gazing at the stars, his bright optics taking in the sky. His white, sleek armor almost glowed against the black night, his heavy figure handsome, his expression soft and friendly.

The ex-Decepticon couldn't help but wonder, of course, if the two had met before the war…would they be different? Would Starscream have joined the Autobots, or would Jetfire have joined the Decepticons? Maybe they would've done neither. Maybe they would've met, and explored together, and…

Returning his gaze to the sky, the seeker felt his processor go into a new territory he wasn't so sure he liked. His spark thudded with a new admiration for the white shuttle, but he still didn't entirely "trust" the Autobot. Then again, Starscream didn't totally trust anybody. He didn't trust himself. Although, as he leaned a little heavier on the shuttle, he fancied the idea of a future where they could go travel space together.

Finally, Starscream answered, "I think I'll stay."

* * *

><p><em>AN:_ I hope that was a better ending than the last chapter. Some good ol' fluffiness between Jetfire and Starscream is always fun! :)

Read and review, please!


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note_:

_dragonbookaddict_: You're the kind of reviewer authors like me dream about. Thank you so much for the sweet words!

_Ultra Chaos:_ You're right! The song fits Starscream like a glove. Thanks for showing it to me!

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Transformers.

_Chapter 8_: Spark

_A week later…_

Optimus woke to the sound of screaming.

With lightning speed, the Commander leaped from his berth, from his quarters, and to where the sound was originating from—the latrine. Jetfire was standing defensively at the open door, glancing towards the Autobot leader as he approached. The shuttle's unmistakable expression of fear only made Optimus further dread what he was about to see. As he looked in the room, Prime felt his spark skip a beat. Ratchet was in the small confines, a short distance between him and Starscream, a metal syringe sticking out from one of the seeker's soft tubing.

The doctor didn't even glance at his Commander as he said earnestly, "_Starscream._ I'm not going to hurt you! Please, calm down!"

"Stay away from me," replied the red one as he crushed himself further into the tight corner. "All of you, _stay away from me_!"

"Starscream," said Optimus gently.

Starscream was absolutely petrified—his wide, blue optics flicked to each mech in the room, as though one of them might attack him at any moment. A hand gripped the syringe in his arm, prying it lose and throwing it to the ground. The body scanner was also there, discarded. Energon tears strained from the corners of his scared eyes, some dried and some fresh, a line of pink draining from his mouth. _He must have been sick when—_

Ratchet, once again, tried to approach. Without any warning, the seeker shrieked, the sound echoing and intensifying so much that Optimus' vision blanked for a moment. Prime shook his head to rid himself of the effect, as did the other three. Immediately, the medic withdrew his intentions, throwing a glance at his friend. "Well, Prime, I'm at a standstill."

"Starscream," the Commander set in, "trust Ratchet. He won't hurt you. I can promise that."

"_NO! No, no, no, no,_" said the seeker as he shook his head. "Don't trust anyone. Can't let anyone get inside ever again!"

"Do you trust _me_?"

Starscream held Prime's gaze for a moment, the Commander's question sinking in. The seeker's optics were so terrified, it nearly broke Optimus' spark in two. He knew where the fear was coming from, and the irrational thoughts running through his mind. If he could just—

Suddenly, the seeker lurched over and spit up, what little energon left in his tank coming forth. Jetfire, as though waking from a dream, immediately went to the seeker's side. Starscream shot out an arm, as thought to keep the shuttle at a distance, but the white Autobot completely ignored it. Taking his wrist, Jetfire pulled the weak and shocked ex-Decepticon to him. With his incredible strength, he pulled Starscream into his arms in one swoop, despite the smaller one's protest.

"_Put me DOWN!_" screeched the seeker as he kicked and struggled.

"Red Alert, get your aft to the med bay _now_!" hailed Ratchet over an open comm. Link.

'_Is everything ok, sir?_' asked Hot Shot, who was on fire watch.

'_We're taking Starscream to the med bay,'_ answered Prime. That was all the info Hot Shot needed to realize what was happening.

Starscream coughed once, as though he was going to retch again. Jetfire held one of the seeker's wrists, his legs tight against the shuttle's shoulder as Ratchet led the three mechs to the infirmary. The door whooshed open and that was all the reason the seeker needed to start struggling again. Legs kicked and arms bolted out, but Jetfire held strong as he put the panicking seeker onto the surgical berth. Fresh, new tears of fear were running down the seeker's face, and Optimus couldn't help but feel like he was betraying Starscream, too.

"All his stats are off the charts, I _have_ to break him open," said the medic, as though reading his Commander's thoughts.

"Are you _certain_?" pressed Optimus. A sob, something he never heard come from the ex-Decepticon, broke through the heavy air.

Ratchet stared directly into Prime's optics. "His spark is going to _boil_ unless I relieve some of the pressure."

Optimus cycled a deep breath of air. "Ok. Do it."

Starscream screamed with defiance as Ratchet picked up another syringe from a silver tray next to him. Optimus took both of the seeker's feet and held them down, allowing Jetfire to put the energy bindings in place. Taking both wrists, the shuttle shoved the smaller mech against the bed again, forcibly placing both hand restraints on as well. The red one struggled against the bindings, but being so weak, he couldn't possibly escape. Then, the seeker stared up at the shuttle, a half-choked sob escaping him as he said, "I _trusted_ you! I trusted you and you betrayed me, Jetfire!"

The realization struck the shuttle like a bullet and Optimus and the medic could see it clear as day. A wounded expression crossed over the white Autobot's face which the Commander had never seen the likes of before—usually his second could maintain his emotions in even the most stressful situations. The pair's strained gazes were locked together, even as tears further streamed down Starscream's face.

"I…I…" started the shuttle, fumbling for words.

Red Alert suddenly appeared by the surgical berth and Ratchet forced Starscream's head to the side, piercing one of his soft veins on his neck. A scream bubbled in the ex-Decepticon's throat, but only momentarily, as the sedative rapidly spread through him. Optics became glazed, Starscream's frame slowly relaxed, his limbs going limp, his head lolling against the silver berth. Optimus couldn't help but notice Jetfire remained rooted to the spot, one hand tightening into a fist.

"Jetfire…" started the Commander.

Ratchet, however, waved a hand in front of the shuttle, breaking his trance. "Jetfire, I need you to open him. I haven't operated on many seekers and only know how to bring their nose cone up vertically. I need you to open him down the middle."

"But—"

"Do it now, or he'll be dead by morning!" snapped the medic as he pulled overly bright surgical lights over the red one's flaccid body.

Jetfire flinched, but stepped closer, his dark hands roving over Starscream's cockpit glass. With the slightest movements, he searched for the small lever or button he would touch whenever interfacing with a seeker back on Cybertron. Primus, it had been too long…. After what seemed liked forever, Jetfire's large, fumbling fingers found the trigger. Gently, the shuttle pulled it and a seal opened directly down the center of the ex-Decepticon's body. Sliding down the opposite sides of Starscream's frame, they revealed a bland, grey sheet of metal. Jetfire set to work as he found the inner workings of the different protective shields, which were usually four or five for seekers. After the fourth slab moved, Jetfire could tell he was on the last one—the light of Starscream's spark shined through even the thick defensive barrier. When the shuttle moved it aside, all four mechs gasped.

What seemed like—in all its impossibility—was that Starscream did not have just one spark…he had four.

"What in the pits?" asked Jetfire to no-one in particular.

"He has…" started Red Alert.

"Mini-Con sparks inside him," answered Ratchet. "_Inside_ his spark chamber. Each separated."

"How is that possible?" asked Optimus.

After a note of silence, the three Autobots glanced at the senior medic—whose gaze remained on the spark casing. Ratchet, as the kliks went by, seemed to grow more infuriated. Teeth clenched, blue optics burning with rage, he growled, "Damn Hook to the very pits. Damn him! _Damn him!_"

Jetfire returned his attention to the spark. Like any other, Starscream's spark casing sat in a wall of sensitive cables and wiring, a soft barrier from the hard cavity of metal which housed the spark chamber. Wires were plugged into the casing and energon pulsed away and to the spark, just like everyone else. However, with the three additional sparks, there was an erratic beat, and the usual energon pressure in the mech's veins was now bloated and overly hot. Starscream's blue spark pulsed with a regular, soft rhythm, and three smaller balls of pink lights floated around the larger. His blue spark was brilliant and bright; soft beams touching the clustered, black wires. In Jetfire's perspective, he'd never seen anything more beautiful, as terrifying as the situation was. Starscream was, technically, housing three lives, plus himself. No wonder he kept getting sick. And no wonder he was so powerful.

"Alright, he needs to be regulated, he's overheating," snapped Ratchet. Pure hate had settled in his optics and his voice was tight.

"Ratchet…" started Optimus.

"This is fragging terrible, Prime! Hook killed three Mini-Cons and stuffed their life force into a single spark casing! Starscream might as well be a semiconductor, in human terms. No wonder he gets sick. He either has to expel the energy, or it builds up inside of him," ended the doctor in a grumble. "As I said, I need to make him stable. Red Alert, give me those tubes."

The two medics fled into their work, and the two other mechs stepped aside. Optimus glanced at his second, but Jetfire was absorbed into staring at the seeker's face. The Commander felt for the shuttle; he had a feeling Ratchet was simply checking in on the two while Jetfire monitored Starscream's night. No doubt the seeker panicked when he saw the doctor, and one thing led to another….

Hours passed by like days and finally Ratchet stood straight, a frown etched across his face.

"Done," he said, his tone calmer now. "The sparks, together, produce enough energy for two of Starscream's size. From everyday hereon, he'll have to expend it in some way, otherwise his body will eventually…hrm…"

"Explode," finished Jetfire.

They each glanced at him, but Ratchet replied, "In essence."

Optimus sighed. "How did Hook even manage to get them in there? How did Starscream survive with his spark exposed?"

"To be honest, Prime, your guess is as good as mine," answered the orange mech as he wiped his hands of grease and energon. "If I knew, I could've saved a lot more lives during this entire Primus-forsaken war. Getting those datapads might be more necessary than I previously thought."

Jetfire wandered closer to ex-Decepticon. He hadn't shed his hurt expression during the whole operation—and Prime was getting a hunch that the shuttle had feelings for the other flier. Then again, Jetfire took his job seriously and probably felt like he was failing Starscream by forcing him to face his deepest fears.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Jetfire's voice was very quiet and Optimus gathered that intuitive feeling again.

"There are several variables, Jetfire," replied Red Alert. "So long as he expels the extra energy he creates, his physical profile should be fine. However, with those sparks, a part of the Mini-Con might still be alive. They could try to send him thoughts and feelings, maybe even try to manipulate him."

"Depending the way they died, they also might be very afraid," added Ratchet. "So they might be trying to take over without realizing it—especially with the fear Starscream feels. They might think they're still in their own bodies…or they already know they're in Starscream and they want to protect themselves by using Starscream's body. It's hard to say."

Silence dropped over the four mechs again. Jetfire glanced sadly at the ex-Decepticon and Prime somberly observed the varying tubes and pliers which stuck out from Starscream's chest cavity. He looked probably close to the same as he did when Hook was experimenting on him and the Commander scowled. Before Optimus could mention something, Starscream stirred, earning the attention of all the mechs around him.

"Frag!"

Things seemed to fall into slow motion—Ratchet was reaching for another sedative, Optimus and the other medic jumping towards the seeker and Starscream was aware before anyone could do anything. Two blue, confused optics glanced down…and that was enough.

Starscream screeched, bucking his hips as he pulled his hands and feet inward. One of the blue bindings sparked under the pressure and Optimus and Red Alert jumped in, trying to hold him down. The monitors surrounding them began going off with loud, alarming beeps, adding to the general chaos. Suddenly, a mirror was dropped in front of Starscream's face as Jetfire captured the back of the seeker's helm in a single hand.

"Starscream, stop! Look! Look, look, look!" exclaimed Jetfire.

The ex-Decepticon struggled for another moment, but halted when his panicked gaze caught the sight of his spark reflecting in the handheld mirror. The surprise was enough to completely distract the smaller flier, his optics glued to the image.

"Wh…what…" he whispered. "How is that…? Are those…?"

Everyone remained quiet as Starscream tried to answer his own questions. Jetfire almost felt relieved showing him—at least he could realize _why_ they needed to get to his spark. They only wanted to help, they really did.

"Those…are the Mini-Cons," said Starscream, his tone breaking. "I remember…on the table next to me….they were…just lying there. All the blood…their optics were dark. I can hear them…" Starscream let his head lean into Jetfire's hand, squeezing his optics shut, a pained look drawing over his face. "I can hear them screaming…"

_Primus_, thought Optimus. Hook hadn't even given the Mini-Cons mercy by sedating them before their deaths, or making them painless. They were just resources to him. They were just…

"I can hear them screaming," Starscream said again as his voice grew in volume. "I can feel…Hook tearing open their spark chambers…_it hurts_!"

The seeker's optics snapped online again, but instead of blue, they were white. Jetfire was pulled away by Optimus as one of Starscream's arms burst from the restraints. Ratchet, like lightning, used the sedative in his hand and stabbed the seeker underneath the arm, directly into the vein. Starscream growled, yanking at his other limbs for freedom, when the drug set in. The other four waited and watched as Starscream quickly lost the will to fight back. The ex-Decepticon slurred a few curses in Cybertronian, his arm flopping over the side of the berth. Jetfire tore from Prime's grip as he took Starscream's helm into both his hands, quickly saying, "Everything's going to be ok, Starscream…everything's going…to be ok."

Starscream stared haphazardly at the shuttle for a brief moment, his neck losing its strength. The seeker said Jetfire's name weakly before the sedative lugged the red one in unconsciousness. Optimus couldn't help but note how terrified Starscream sounded.

* * *

><p>"Are all of you <em>crazy<em>?!"

"Blurr, don't even get me started," said Jetfire as he rubbed his sore optics.

"Starscream's here out of a complete will of his own," Optimus said instead, tapping his second's shoulder. Prime was growing more and more aware of Jetfire's attitude about the seeker. "And because Megatron betrayed him. They tried to make him into a super soldier by tying him down and breaking open his spark chamber."

"He's a _Decepticon_," continued the speedster, giving a look to Prime as though his Commander had lost his processor. "You say Megatron turned him into a super soldier? Isn't that what Starscream's always _wanted_? He's probably just buying his time until he catches us off guard! This would be a great victory for the Decepticons, and would be _way_ too tempting for Starscream to resist!"

"His opportunity has come and gone, Blurr," retorted Hot Shot. "The guy is as anti-Megatron as any one of us. If he wanted to blast us away, it would've been a lot earlier. He saved my life a week ago, and gave Megahead one intense pounding."

"He's just trying to get your trust!" exclaimed Blurr as he shook his head. "And you're all _falling_ for it!"

"It's more like the other way around," grumbled Jetfire as he sucked on an energon cube, settling into one of the common room's chairs. For as noisy as Blurr had been about the subject, Scavenger, who was standing in the corner, was as quiet as a statue. The only thing which betrayed him was crossed arms and a mulling expression.

"Starscream has also issued important information for us which I've forwarded to the rest of the troops," continued the Commander, "and he's also helped us by retrieving the Mini-Cons. In addition, he has no aggression to the humans. Is there anything else I can add?" He turned to the other Autobots.

"Besides being betrayed by Megatron and saving Hot Shot's life? No," answered the shuttle.

Blurr, however, was up in arms. "I can't _believe_ this."

"Well, he's sticking around, so I'd get used to it," said Hot Shot as he folded his arms. The sportster's tune was very matter-of-factly, enough to put down any other rebuttals Blurr wanted to stir up.

With a huff, the white and blue mech turned sharply away from his fellow mechs and stomped down the corridor. No doubt he was off to the firing range to blow some heat—Optimus hoped that would be enough to cool him off until the Commander could personally speak with him.

"Well, I'm gonna go see how Starscream's doing," said Jetfire as he pushed himself to his feet and left the common room.

Hot Shot said as he also exited, "If anyone needs me, I'll be with Jolt in the simulators."

The room was suddenly very quiet and Optimus sighed as he rubbed his helm. "I haven't heard anything from you, Scavenger."

His mentor mulled a klik more before he said, "I'm trying to figure out how I missed all of this."

Glancing at his friend, Prime said, "When you were at their base?"

"It baffles me," the purple mech replied with a frown. "I'm trying to remember the drawing line, when Megatron stopped considering Starscream as a soldier, and then started thinking of him as only a resource. I mean, all the Decepticons are expendable, but…I still just can't believe it."

"You couldn't have known, Scavenger," murmured Optimus, placing a comforting hand on the other's shoulder. He knew the Autobot felt bad, and that he could've saved Starscream from the pain and anguish. "He probably wouldn't have believed you anyways."

"I don't know, Optimus," replied Scavenger, "Starscream, he….didn't quite fit in, and that's putting it in very light terms. All the other Decepticons seemed to avoid Megatron's brutality, but Starscream always caught more heat than he ever deserved. We all knew that Starscream wasn't a shining star as far as Decepticons are concerned, but Megatron definitely used it as an excuse to heap the blame on him. I'm mortified by what's happened, but I'm not altogether surprised, either."

"Well, what's important is that he's in our care, now," said Prime quietly. "And, as a matter of fact, I need your help with something."

Scavenger perked at the Commander's words, quirking an optic at the other. "What's that, exactly?"

Optimus smiled slightly beneath his facemask, but the purple Autobot could easily see it through his optics. "Perhaps a way to get Starscream to trust us."

* * *

><p>"Hey sleepy face," said Jetfire gently, a hand resting on Starscream's helm.<p>

The seeker came to slowly, his dark blue optics hazy, his processor muddled. His limbs felt like dead weight, he couldn't hope to move them. He could only lay there as Jetfire gently brushed his fingers across Starscream's head. The sensation was actually quite nice; of course, the Decepticon in him pointed out that Jetfire was technically "petting" him, but the seeker allowed it for now. He was slowly waking up, and he didn't want the nausea to come reeling back. All he could recall was puking up what felt like all his internal organs when Ratchet showed up to help—then he blacked out.

Groaning, Starscream made to reach up and rub his face, but his wrist was bound. Nervousness crept into the seeker the more he was aware of things—and the more he remembered.

"They just didn't want you to panic again," supplied the shuttle, "I'll go ahead and turn them off."

Starscream watched the white Autobot stand and fiddle with the buttons on the surgical bed. The restraints were released, and the red one immediately sat upright and, throwing his legs over the side of the berth, tried to stand. The seeker yelped in surprise when vertigo made his surroundings spin, his legs folding beneath him. Starscream was caught by a pair of strong arms before he crashed to the ground, but the dizziness made him cling to Jetfire's secure frame.

"My…my head!" exclaimed Starscream in terror.

His feet were swept the ground and his body was placed back onto the flatness of the berth. Starscream's entire world whirled out of control, a sensation he hadn't experienced in a very long time. Fear was beating at his mind, his thoughts rocket firing as he imagined all the terrible things which Ratchet might have done to him. Was he going to die? He remembered seeing his spark, and the smaller ones around it, during the surgery. Those sparks, did he—

"It's ok Starscream," said Jetfire gently, "but it looks like the drugs haven't totally worn off yet. You should lay down for a bit longer."

The seeker's pained expression didn't make Jetfire feel any better. Moreover, Starscream's optics flicked left and right, taking in the med bay like it was prison. Ratchet made a point to hide most of the equipment, but it didn't seem to make any difference. The ex-Decepticon was scared stiff.

Jetfire waited for a while, listening to Starscream's intakes draw in cycles of air as though he was suffocating. Unsure, and aware it was the only thing which seemed to help the red one, the shuttle smoothed his hands over Starscream's wings again. The white Autobot observed patiently and continued to touch the sensitive areas, making sure he didn't try to sit up abruptly again—and after a half hour passed, the med bay became quiet. Starscream was calming down.

"You…I…" whispered the seeker, connecting gazes with the shuttle. "You were in the latrine with me."

"Yeah, you were sick again," murmured Jetfire softly as he sat next to the red one again, releasing his wing. Starscream continued to stare straight into the shuttle's optics, even as he said, "Ratchet showed up, and then Optimus came too…you were panicking."

Starscream didn't remember that part. He _did_ recall a strange voice showing up in his dream, though…that's right, he'd dreamt. No, he had a _nightmare_. The seeker's optics widened in realization as the memory surfaced. That's right. He'd fallen asleep in the latrine and fallen into a terrifying nightmare. Was it a nightmare? Jetfire said he started panicking. Was he awake, was he asleep? Starscream chomped on his lip as he tried to gather the blurry details together.

"How are you feeling?" asked the shuttle, interrupting his thoughts.

Being distracted, the seeker hadn't realized that he actually felt…alright. Besides fading faintness, his tanks didn't feel like they filled with acid. He didn't feel sore, or overly exhausted. His spark felt a little…strange…but he had a feeling it was something which happened during the operation. The operation. Under the knife again, as the humans put it. Primus, he didn't know if he could look Ratchet in his optics again.

"Um…alright," responded Starscream.

Jetfire seemed happy about that; his golden optics practically shined as he gazed at the seeker. Probably because he knew he wouldn't have to be stuck staying up all night, hoping Starscream wouldn't retch his own guts out.

Then, the white shuttle glanced at his feet, a more somber expression turning his usually calm optics dark. "Listen, Starscream, I…" began the Autobot, placing a hand on the seeker's arm, "I…just wanted to say I'm sorry. I know these things terrify you, but the way you looked in the latrine, I…it scared me. I just didn't want you to suffer. That's why I called Ratchet to come help. I hope you see that."

Puzzled, Starscream wondered why Jetfire felt like apologizing. Although he didn't completely trust Ratchet (or even Prime, for that matter), he'd hung around Jetfire long enough to see the Autobot had good intentions. Maybe something happened when he blacked out? The seeker tried hard to remember, back to when he was in the larine. He felt so awful, like his insides were being eaten alive. The little black box which Red Alert had tagged to him several weeks ago began to make an assortment of noises. The seeker could remember being terrified when he saw his spark chamber open later on, but it looked so much like when he had been at the Decepticon base, he couldn't help it. All the tubes and tools jutting out of him, the computers surrounding the surgical bed…but, he understood _why_ Jetfire called Ratchet. It was an emergency. He remembered feeling arms around him, and how he was struggling against…

"You…don't remember?" asked Jetfire.

"I remember…" murmured Starscream slowly, saying each syllable, "…Hook. I remember seeing Hook in my nightmare. And Megatron." He looked at Jetfire directly, his blue optics searing straight into the shuttle's spark. "And you."

"Me?" asked the white Autobot stupidly.

"I was back at the Decepticon base," Starscream went on, "and Hook was trying to sedate me. I was trying to escape when I threw up, and you suddenly appeared…"

Jetfire's spark clenched tightly in his chest. _Oh no…_

"And you grabbed me, lifted me and took me to the lab," finished the seeker quickly. "I tried to get away, but…"

"Starscream, I…I'm so sorry," murmured the shuttle.

"It's not your fault," mumbled the red one as he averted his gaze to the far side of the room. Suddenly he felt like being alone, even in the med bay. He knew that it wasn't Jetfire's fault for the nightmare, but the way he was depicted in his memory was still too fresh. The shuttle's eyes were red and violent, his frame swathed in shadow, his strength overwhelming. Jetfire was even larger than Megatron, so it made sense why he feared him. As strange as it seemed, even in the nightmare Starscream had trusted the "Jetfire" there, so when he thought Hook and Megatron had strapped him down, he felt even more betrayed. He felt it was real.

"Starscream, I would never, ever hurt you," beseeched the white Autobot, his fingers tightening around the seeker's arm. "Please…believe me."

"I believe you," muttered the other. Turning to look at Jetfire again, Starscream realized his tone was enough to make the other think otherwise. "I just need more recharge, I think. Some quiet. Remembering the nightmare just rattled me. I just need to sort it out."

Jetfire didn't move still, his golden optics filled with hurt. Starscream wanted the 'bot to stay, truly, but he needed to calm down first. He never had any other mech even remotely seem interested in Starscream's feelings, but Jetfire did. And he cared. He cared about the seeker's health, both physically and mentally. He wanted to make sure he was ok. It was more than he'd received after so many years with the Decepticons, and Starscream was grateful. At the same time, the holographic images kept flicking in and out of his vision, and he kept seeing "evil" Jetfire. Decepticon Jetfire. It was a frightening thing.

"I'll come out in a little while," reassured Starscream. "I'll be alright."

Jetfire glanced away and nodded, looking a little lost. Turning, the white shuttle finally left and Starscream relieved a heavy sigh. Glancing around, the seeker observed the room again to distract himself and noticed the medics had hid their various tools, as to not repeat the incident from earlier. It was strange: although Ratchet seemed so gruff, the ex-Decepticon could plainly see that the medic cared. Perhaps that's the way he'd always been and was simply used to behaving this way about patients, but Starscream liked the attention. He liked feeling like he mattered. He mattered, to the Autobots, his enemy…the seeker even felt a remote sense of trust for a couple of them. Jetfire especially. Maybe that's why he showed up in his nightmare? He was afraid of Jetfire also betraying him. Optimus, too. He liked them because they didn't treat him like a half-wit, like a burden. They cared about his welfare.

The more Starscream dwelled on the comforting thoughts, the more his processor began to slow. He didn't want to fall into recharge, but maybe just resting his optics for a few joors would help him…

Starscream heard the door to the med bay open, but the seeker refrained from bringing his optics online. Maybe if they saw he was sleeping, they would go away…

Unfortunately, the heavy mech sat down in the chair next to the berth. His pounding spark was enough to make the seeker note, with a measure of annoyance, that it was Jetfire again.

"Slaggit, Autobot, I'm _fine_," growled the red one. "Now let me get some rest."

"I think you and I are going to have a nice, _long_ chat, actually," replied the mech.

Starscream snapped his optics open and turned his attention to the newcomer. He wished he hadn't.


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Transformers.

_Chapter 9_: Within

Slag—it could've been anyone else. _Anyone_.

"**You look like slag**," said the Jetfire with red optics. His voice was deep like the shuttle's, but carried an underlying sharpness to it, a double tone. "**You need to take better care of yourself**."

Starscream twisted his gaze to the ceiling and planted it there. Maybe if he ignored the apparition, it would go away.

"**I'm not going anywhere, Starscream**," said the mech in Jetfire's casual tone. "**At least, I **_**can't**_** go anywhere**."

Ignoring his protocol to _not_ feed into the hallucination, the seeker placed his attention back on the anti-Autobot, whose facial features remained the same, the mask, his colors, the smile in his optics. But they were red and dangerous and piercing directly into Starscream's spark.

"What are you talking about?" asked the ex-Decepticon.

"**Well, seeing as you have my spark**," replied the white mech as he cocked his head innocently, "**makes it a little difficult**."

Starscream's optics widened in shock. This "Jetfire"—this _delusion_ wasn't his imagination at all. "You're the Mini-Con."

"_**One**_** of the Mini-Cons. The name's Surge…and I'm the only one who has any of their senses left**," he said as he brought his chin lower, giving him a menacing appearance. "**All the others are kind of…off in limbo, let's say**."

The red seeker didn't know what to say—if he was sure he was facing the Mini-Con or if the drugs had done a serious number on him.

"**Oh, I'm **_**real**_** alright**," said the mech with a smirk, earning Starscream's surprise. "**And I can hear and feel **_**everything**_**. I mean, we're bunk buddies now. Every thought, every fleeting emotion that's yours is also now mine. That's why I took on Jetfire's shape. You seem to like him the best**."

"Then why did you show up in my nightmare?" growled the ex-Decepticon. Not good. Not good!

"Surge", as he called himself, didn't lose his smile. "**Well, **_**that**_** wasn't my idea. You came up with that all on your own. Quite the imagination, I'd say. Just as you had said, Jetfire would be quite terrifying if he was a Decepticon**."

Starscream deliberated a moment, wondering why the Mini-Con bothered to appear now. In addition, he said he took on Jetfire's form because Starscream liked him best—but why did he look so _evil?_ The gleaming, red optics, the underlying menacing smile, even the subtle claws on his hands. He looked like…a monster.

"**Hey, I'm not the one trying to kill Megatron at every turn**," said the Mini-Con with a laugh. "**If anything, **_**you're**_** the monster. You killed both my kind and the Autobots long before **_**I**_** came around, and only until Megatron betrayed **_**you**_** did you decide he was the bad guy. A slight paradox, don't you think?**"

Starscream clenched his teeth, tightening his fists, but didn't say anything. Cheeky little Mini-Con—

"**Besides, **_**I'm**_** the one giving you the power you've wanted all these vorns. Even though you've done wrong in the past, it doesn't mean we can't work together. I have this power…you have a great body**," said the Mini-Con with creepier tone than Starscream cared to admit, "**we can kill Megatron, **_**together**_**.**"

It was like he was asking him to fall in love.

"Why haven't you shown up before?" asked the seeker.

Shrugging, "evil" Jetfire situated himself better on the chair before folding his clawed hands together. "**Until I saw what you saw last night, I hadn't realized I was even **_**in**_** your body. I thought I was still in mine. I kept seeing what you were seeing. Every time I saw Megatron, and I knew what he did, I would wake up for a little bit, but then something would just push me back down. I'm guessing that was you, whenever you came down from your '**_**kill high**_**'. It was so very dark, and I just wanted to get out again, back to where I **_**should've**_** been. In my rightful body.**"

Starscream scowled, trying to keep his mind blank. "But…you want to kill Megatron, too."

"**Oh, don't get me wrong**," said the Mini-Con, white fangs flashing beneath a malicious grin, "**I want to punch the life out of his spark as much as you do. But you see, until I saw our shared sparks in the mirror, saw that our bodies were gone and we only had you…I only thought I was in a bad dream. A comatose of sorts. We **_**share**_** these feelings now, you and I. Your never-ending quest to kill Megatron is my quest as well. And you…you're just so **_**passionate**_**. You can't even admit it to yourself, you too scared of how you think. I see the little gears rolling in your head whenever you're fighting him. **_**Piece by piece**_**…**_**limb by limb…nothing, until but the spark is left. **_**Right? I mean…that's what you think. Personally, I think it's great. The Pits hath no fury like a vengeful seeker**." He finished with a small chuckle.

For a moment, the ex-Decepticon didn't say anything. He was all too aware of how deranged the Mini-Con was behaving…but Starscream didn't necessarily blame him, and his reasoning made sense. For the past several weeks, the tiny 'bot within him had done nothing but live in constant fear and confusion, with no idea where he was or in what state. The only time he was released was, just as he said, during Starscream's "kill highs". The seeker couldn't help but feel an uninvited guilt—such a tiny thing, who'd only been used and enslaved by the Decepticons, was stripped of his body and left with nothing but to share his host's rage.

Jetfire suddenly laughed, breaking the seeker's thoughts. "**Don't feel bad for me, Autobot.**"

Starscream blinked. "What did you just call me?"

"**Oh, **_**please**_**, you're in love. Don't deny it**," snickered the other.

"They haven't quite accepted me yet," mumbled the red one. A strange, familiar sensation returned to Starscream—the same he felt when sitting with Jetfire a week ago.

"**There. That feeling. What's it called?**" said the Mini-Con, tapping a finger on his golden facemask and pretending to ponder.

"It's nothing," replied the red one.

"**You're a bad liar**," chuckled the other.

The ex-Decepticon narrowed his optics, eager to change the subject. "What about the Autobots?"

"**The Autobots…**" started the other, the word slowly coming off his tongue. "**What about them?**"

"You…don't want to hurt them, right?" wondered the seeker.

For some reason, the Mini-Con didn't respond to the question. Instead, he leaned forward, inching closer to Starscream's head. The seeker pushed himself away, a breach of personal space, but the larger caught his arm and pulled him close. Red optics were too close for comfort, the sharp claws digging into Starscream's arm. "**Don't worry, pink eyes, I won't hurt your precious Jetfire.**"

"He's not my precious!" screeched the ex-Decepticon, tearing himself away from the other's grip.

Starscream knew the blasted Mini-Con was only a figment of his imagination, but it disturbed him beyond words that the tiny 'bot could affect him this way and could touch him. What if he could…do _other_ things…?

"_**Sheesh**_**, alright, he's not your precious. You do like him, though, and I know that for a **_**fact**_," said Surge with a stout nod.

The med bay's door opened again. This time, it was Optimus's massive frame who stepped through, his golden, concerned optics searching for Starscream. The seeker (albeit pathetically) tried to look relaxed on the surgical bed, but knew he failed by the Autobot leader's sympathetic expression. _Oh no. More pity._ At least Prime's appearance had chased off the awakened Mini-Con, glad to be rid of the escalating conversation with the new voice in his head.

"Starscream?" asked the large mech softly as he strode to the side of the berth and glanced down at the seeker. The red one was relieved by the Commander's concerned air, maybe even comforted by it (a little). "Are you alright? I heard you cry out."

"Nightmare," mumbled the ex-Decepticon, shuttering his optics for a moment.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked the other.

Starscream shook his head. He didn't want to imagine the reaction Optimus would have if the seeker told the Autobot leader that he was…seeing things. Or that there was an infuriated, sadistic Mini-Con talking to him when Prime wasn't looking. The Autobot would probably toss him to the curb faster than Megatron would come get him. _Primus…_

Upon hearing Optimus sit down, the ex-Decepticon opened his optics again and looked at the Commander, taken aback. "You…don't have to, if you don't want to," said the seeker.

Starscream was further surprised when he saw a smile shining in the other's optics. Calm. Reassuring. A steady anchor in the constant, morbid hurricane called the seeker's life. On an off note, the seeker wondered what the Commander looked like with his faceplate off…

"I haven't had the opportunity to speak to you lately. I figured now is a good time," replied Prime happily.

Unfortunately, it was true, and Starscream was a captive audience. "Talk about what?" he asked.

"Some things," said the Autobot, and the seeker had a hunch it wasn't about pretty stars and lullabies. "You…keep a lot of things to yourself."

Starscream grunted, scratching his face to distract himself of the awkwardness of the statement. He was a Decepticon, and from years of getting pummeled for opening his big mouth, he'd learned (even after this long), it was better to keep quiet. Whenever he _did_ open his mouth and voiced his stark opinions around Megatron, it was usually met with a fist. Even after thousands of vorns, the foolish Decepticon tyrant continued to make mistakes, despite his Air Commander's protests—and after thousands of vorns, Starscream (and others) continued to pay for those mistakes. So, he kept his trap shut and acted like a good little soldier when he could, but even that didn't always save him from Megatron's wrath.

"I want to know what you're feeling, Starscream," Optimus pressed, "these emotions are a burden you don't have to bear alone."

The seeker's jaw clenched automatically, but he chose to not say anything again. How the Autobot leader could even begin to understand the seeker's situation was a futile attempt, and it frustrated the ex-Decepticon. Prime had never and probably _would_ never be able to experience these feelings, this power, these thoughts. Bloodthirstiness. Helplessness. Changed into something completely different. As a matter of fact, if the Autobot leader hadn't found him, he'd probably be dead already. But he couldn't be mad at Optimus; he'd only tried to help him this entire time. Suddenly, Starscream felt guilty—he owed Prime a little respect, even though he didn't appreciate the invasion of privacy.

"Tired," replied the red one finally. "Sick and tired."

For a brief klik, Optimus didn't say anything. Then, "It's a crossroads we all face."

"Huh?"

"This war has lasted so long, I don't remember much before it," murmured the Autobot softly, somberly, "but I remember what was happening when I first felt what you feel now." Starscream favored Prime with a confused look, and the blue mech continued, "It was quite a long time ago, but I do remember it well. Thousands of years ago, and I can recall all of the small details. The war was very fresh and treacherous, you weren't even the Air Commander yet. Soundwave, Megatron and Thrust were leading an attack, and it was just myself and a small company of Autobots. I was still rather confident, then, traveling to Iacon after visiting a refugee camp. It was an ambush, and we weren't prepared at all."

Starscream stared at the Commander, whose optics had become dark. He was reliving the memory, bit by bit, and the seeker wasn't sure if he should tell him to stop. Seeing Prime as anything but the calm, collected Autobot leader was unnatural…he dared say frightening.

After a slight pause, Optimus went on, "Lest to say, we were all almost killed. I lost good, strong mechs, soldiers and medics, and my own second-in-command, Ultra Magnus. Above all, I lost my spark mate."

The seeker stared at the Autobot with wide optics, shocked he would give Starscream such information. He actually recalled when he'd heard about that—it was considered a great victory, since Optimus' spark mate, Elita-One, was both a powerful warrior and a skilled tactician. Megatron seemed happier that he'd caused the Autobot so much emotional damage, which he thought Prime would, in turn, fall off his pedestal. Starscream was only still in training when that happened.

Optimus started talking again. "I was devastated. Elita-One was a powerful companion, my anchor. She kept me straight when no-one else had the gall to say I was wrong. When she was gone, I no longer wanted to be leader. I didn't want the Matrix, I didn't want the position, I didn't want to be a part of the war. I only wanted to kill Megatron."

The last part struck Starscream; the omnipotent, compassionate Leader of the Autobots had experienced the same barbarity? Although it was far from being the same circumstances, the seeker was certain Optimus harbored no less the amount of grief and rage which the ex-Decepticon still clung to. Starscream recalled how Hot Shot had reminded him from the last battle they had with the Decepticons. _You think you're the only one who Megatron's taken something from?_

"What did you do?" wondered Starscream.

"I clammed up," answered Optimus. "I thought I could spare those who were close to me from getting targeted by Megatron. I pushed everyone away and tried to be as cold as callous as I could. I wouldn't allow anyone near me, or allow emotions to get the better of me again. However, I would still do whatever I could to stop Megatron. Things went like this for a couple of vorns. In the meantime, the tides began to turn and the Decepticons were beginning to gain on us more than they had before. I knew why, but didn't admit to it. I couldn't risk it." Prime sighed.

"But…" started the seeker, then fell quiet. He remembered, actually. Megatron had never been so happy, so at ease. The war was in the bag, and he was quite aware of it. That's when Starscream had accelerated through the ranks and took each opportunity as it came. The Decepticon leader had never been so generous to his troops. Then…

"It took me by quite a surprise when the first mech stepped up and told me we were losing because of what I was doing," Optimus said, his voice booming with pride. Starscream never saw a mech so happy about someone telling him off. "Jazz. What a ruffian. One day, in the main control room, he stopped everything at once and yelled, screamed and argued with me for hours on end, in front of the entire squadron. I yelled, screamed and argued right back, too. I was so furious…and then I just became very, very sad. I had never taken the time to actually grieve my spark mate's death. I was spending all my time being so…filled with hate that I never faced what was truly killing me. Jazz made me realize this. He cared for me so much that he had the courage to stand up and tell me I was wrong."

Prime fell quiet and glanced at Starscream. The seeker, who had been captivated by the story, felt embarrassed that he'd been gaping at the Autobot leader for the past few minutes. At the same time, he realized where Optimus was leading him. "Killing Megatron will end the war, though," he murmured.

"Megatron's downfall will come," said the blue mech, "whether it's by you, whether it's by me…whether it's by Hot Shot, or even Ratchet. Who is to say? Maybe one day Jetfire will trip in battle, accidentally fire his weapon and take Megatron's head off." Starscream didn't fight the smirk which spread across his face. "It's not your job alone to figure out how to bring Megatron down, is my point. I'm more concerned about you healing. You're a smart seeker, one with great courage and tenacity and I don't want it to go to waste by throwing yourself at Megatron."

Starscream simply stared at the Autobot leader for a moment, sifting through his thoughts to figure out what to say. No-one had paid him such a huge compliment before—by Optimus Prime, no less. Starscream didn't really think of himself as courageous, and he hadn't thought himself as "smart" since trying to outdo Soundwave by creating more elaborate and complicated viruses to infect the Autobot's computer security systems. Well, technically, since Megatron told him he could never outdo the communications officer. That's when Starscream had altogether given up on trying to impress anyone.

"Still," replied the seeker as he pulled his gaze from Prime's optics, "I have the power of three Mini-Cons. I have a better chance than most. I almost did it last time, too. Next time for sure."

Prime sighed heavily. Try as he might, Optimus' endeavor to deter Starscream from his suicide mission wasn't as easy as he'd hoped. The seeker was truly bent on making Megatron suffer, just as he did.

Starscream flinched when he noticed Prime's hand reach over to the ex-Decepticon, cupping his helm like an older mech would do to his youngling. The touch broke any comfort barriers he had, but the seeker didn't push the other away.

"Starscream," murmured the Autobot leader, his optics like two burning suns, "I need you to heal, to separate from the shadows of your Decepticon life. You cannot come here and expect us sentimental Autobots to not grow fond of you and allow you to continue to suffer."

The seeker was speechless. Optimus was _fond_ of him?

Prime didn't give the red one a chance to say anything before he went on, "You also need to grieve. What you went through was no walk in the park; Megatron was cruel, cold, and had absolutely no right to treat you as he did. You must come to face this—otherwise you'll never outlive your hatred."

Starscream's spark swelled with hurt, but he retained his stoic expression. The statement itself was enough to draw out the deafening sense of betrayal and worthlessness. How did Prime manage to pull all of these memories out of this out of him within only minutes when he'd managed to ignore it for the past month? Starscream tightened his fists as he forced his gaze to the ceiling, still unsure of what to say.

For some reason, Optimus ended it there with the reaction he caused in the seeker and stood. Patting the red mech's shoulder, he said, "Come see Scavenger when you are feeling better. He has something for you."

Starscream didn't reply; he had heard the words, but didn't ingest them. His emotions were eating at him. He wanted Optimus to go away. He wanted to be alone. Why was it that every mech came in here ended up making him feel terrible? When the med bay was empty again, the seeker placed his hands over his face, trying to keep a dam on the steadily growing pain. Each spark beat made the hurt worse, made the awful details more real. Eventually, Starscream couldn't hold the tears back, and when they flowed, he couldn't stop the soft sobs which escaped his lips, either. Oddly, the Mini-Con who had been so chatty earlier was now eerily quiet, as though he was just watching the seeker. The ex-Decepticon didn't hold back.

* * *

><p>"You haven't…totally failed me, Thrust," murmured Megatron as he stared at the pair of shivering Mini-Cons in his hand. "However, you have allowed the Autobots to gain two of the four Mini-Cons they were searching for. This is unacceptable."<p>

"Of course, Lord Megatron," replied the green and purple Decepticon, bowing slightly. "Had I gone alone, I have no shadow of a doubt—"

"I don't want _excuses_," growled the larger mech, his empty hand squeezing into a fist, "Wheeljack went with you to cover the land you couldn't and, obviously, he's a more capable warrior than you are since you allowed Scavenger to get the better of you."

The throne room fell quiet, Thrust silently boiling. However, Wheeljack, who stood to the back of the room, leaning against the dark, eroded wall, smirked at the overbearing tactician.

"Now that you're back, though, I need you and Soundwave to devise a plan to get Starscream back," murmured the purple Decepticon as he stood upright, clenching the small 'bots in hand so they wouldn't slip out.

"Can't we just forget about him?" asked Cyclonus, shaking his head. "He seems really hate you now, Megatron."

The bluntness of the statement was a little much, and earned a dangerous glare from the tank. Cyclonus, naturally, shrank to the shadows to escape the unnerving stare, not wanting to provoke a fist to go with it. However, a loose tongue was to be expected of the helicopter—Megatron didn't pick him to think, he picked him to fight.

"Starscream is too powerful and too unpredictable to be left in Prime's hands," answered their leader curtly. "The fool simply is looking to get his ego back, and Optimus is very good at that, as you can tell by the rest of his fire team."

"That's for certain," muttered Thrust. "But I think Cyclonus, as strange as it seems, has a point. Trying to force him back hasn't worked."

The tactician waited for Megatron to fill the gaps himself. The tank cocked an optic bridge at the green Decepticon. "Draw him back, you mean."

"Yes," answered the seeker. "It'll be easier to bring Starscream back if he wants to come willingly. How you were to go about this, however—"

"I know a way," said the Decepticon leader as he walked from the control room and to where they held the Mini-Cons.

As usual, Soundwave tailed the larger mech—per orders, of course. Where Megatron went, unless otherwise stated, the lieutenant was required to follow. Thrust, who also decided to trail after them, found this highly annoying. In the beginning of the war—before Soundwave showed up out of nowhere—Thrust had been leading the battle line with Megatron, and they had been doing just fine. The way the communications officer was practically glued to his Lord's side was suspicious _and_ irritating. If Starscream had decided not to lose his mind, things would've remained the same. Thrust realized this, and hoped that if the red seeker came back (as irritating as he was, too), that Soundwave would be sent back to Cybertron to continue babysitting their planet.

"And…how is that, Lord Megatron?" asked the green Decepticon.

"Starscream just needs a little consoling, I believe," replied the tank, "I'm sure he feels like I betrayed him. He just needs to realize I'm the one who's helped him the most."

"May I ask…why haven't _you_ tried to synchronize with Mini-Con sparks?" asked Thrust tentatively. He was intrigued with the concept, but since Starscream's initial reaction…the procedure was obviously nowhere perfected.

Megatron snorted. "What good would I be if I ended up reacting like Starscream? The war would be over."

"And just what will you do with Starscream once he comes back?"

The purple Decepticon strode through the door of one of the storage bays where more of the Mini-Cons were held. Different colored optics shined in the darkness, small fingers wrapped around the bars of their crates. Some of them softly clicked at the arrival of the newcomers, even as Megatron opened one of the empty crates and placed the small 'bots in its confines before closing it again. Turning, the Decepticon leader addressed his tactician. "Finish the procedure, of course. I do imagine the Mini-Cons are quite loud in his head, if they're not already driving him insane. If Hook can finish, the fool will be able to function without the Mini-Cons trying to take over his spark. Then, I will make sure he obeys me and we will finish off the Autobots."

"And…if he chooses not to come back?" wondered Thrust, making sure to add no emotion to the statement.

"Then I'll force him and make sure he obeys me," answered the Decepticon simply. "Hook already has some new hardware we can screw into him to make sure he doesn't fall by the wayside again."

Thrust felt a small shiver rove down his spinal cords. He didn't want to imagine ever becoming one of Hooks "experiments". As likely as it was that Starscream had a great deal of power, it wasn't worth the risk. Plus, if Starscream _did_ decide to continue refusing Megatron, and the tank ended up getting a hold of him…it would be the end of him. The red seeker would be put under the knife and turned into nothing but super-charged drone.

"Thrust," said Megatron, catching the green Decepticon's attention, "I will discuss this further with you later. You are dismissed for now."

The tactician was a little surprised, but nodded nonetheless and left the two "lovebirds" in peace, as the humans would say. Thrust always felt they were a little too close—Soundwave seemed to spend far too much time with their Decepticon leader than was necessary. However, it was Megatron's choice, and Thrust had absolutely no say in it.

Megatron waited until Thrust disappeared around the corner until he started walking to his quarters. Soundwave followed him like a shadow, their metallic footsteps the only noise echoing in the hallways. As the Decepticon leader's door slid open, he grumbled, "Finally some peace from bumbling fools and disappointing reports."

As usual, the blue lieutenant said nothing. Instead, he remained at the very edge of his Lord Megatron's room until the purple mech ordered him in. The tank settled onto his normal place, which was the rarely used berth shoved to the far side of his quarters. Megatron's hard red optics settled on Soundwave and he said, "I want you to show me the last battle's details, through uplink." The purple Decepticon didn't dare call it "spark linking".

Soundwave sauntered closer to the bed and opened his spark chamber slightly ajar, pulling a single cord and offered it to his superior. Megatron took it and did the same, connecting with his lieutenant. Although the practice seemed strange, the two Decepticons had been doing it since the war first began. Thousands of vorns ago, Megatron had first assembled a rebellion squad, he'd grown more and more annoyed of how Soundwave never spoke—however, one day, after wanting details of a recon mission, the purple mech blew up at his communications officer. Soundwave, rather than obliging his Lord to break his silence, instead offered Megatron to see through his subordinate's own optics. The only way to do that was through a spark link: share emotions, memories and information which couldn't be intercepted or hacked. It was secure and more detailed method, and it never got personal. The first few times were strange, awkward and the Decepticon leader often shared more than he wanted.

Today, however, after doing it thousands of times, Megatron only blinked when the usual feeling of linking up—the shared energy of the spark, mostly—surged through him. Soundwave remained still as stone as he siphoned through the various memories, retreating back to their most recent fight with the Autobots. The Decepticon leader noted Jetfire's weakness, Optimus' reactions, and Starscream's movements. Although Soundwave was as smooth and perfect as any soldier Megatron could hope to design, he had struggled against the seeker. If his communication's officer hadn't been distracted by Jetfire and Prime, he certainly would've been able to overwhelm Starscream. At least, Megatron hoped so.

"And what do you think of Thrust's idea, Soundwave?" asked the purple mech, reaching over and taking an energon cube from a counter.

Soundwave effectively simulated a quick animation of several situations which could result from trying to contact Starscream quietly. It had theories, both good and bad, of how the seeker would react, if he would attack, or if he would come running back. Soundwave suggested, through the images, that it would be the worth the attempt. At least if Starscream said no, then Megatron would exactly know what to do with the red mech once he brought him back.

"So be it, then," murmured the tank, then guzzled the energon cube in one go. Chucking the empty container, the Decepticon grabbed another, and also one for the lieutenant. Tossing it to the blue mech, Soundwave caught it with a single hand, taking a cable from his neck and plugging it into the bottom of the cube.

"You look…heavier, Soundwave," said Megatron thoughtfully, suspiciously. "I dare say…_thicker_. Are you well?"

Although the officer didn't say anything, a simple message went through their link and that message was _yes_. As the Decepticon leader disconnected from his second's spark, he remained doubtful. No, he was certain of it. Soundwave had gained weight somehow, and in the many, many years Megatron had spent with the blue mech, he would've noticed. The communications officer was very strict of how he managed his own health—so why the sudden change? The purple Decepticon was very intrigued.

"If for some reason you're lying to me, I hope it's for a damn good reason, Soundwave," growled the larger mech.

Soundwave only stared at him and shook his head.

"And, if I find out later that you _did_ lie to me, I will be…very angry," said Megatron slowly, glaring at the lieutenant's optic visor. He knew he was staring straight into the blue mech's gaze—he wanted to make Soundwave totally aware of the consequences of withholding information. He couldn't afford to lose the officer, not after Starscream had lost his mind.

Still, Soundwave did not budge. Megatron grunted and chugged the other energon cube. "Very well. When the time comes, I will go speak to Starscream and I want you to tail me, just in case. Understood?"

The officer nodded.

* * *

><p>To be continued…<p>

And, I brought down the M-rated hammer for the sake of future chapters. More than just interfacing (there will be warnings for that), there's also going to be more gore. Hope you all are ready for it!

Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note:_ Thank you for all the reviews!

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Transformers.

_Chapter 10_: Unaware

_The next day…_

"You want me to what?" asked Starscream, giving Scavenger an odd look.

The green Autobot leaned over the table and said, "I want you to fix it."

Glancing back at the generator, the seeker quickly observed the bulk of metal before saying, "What's wrong with it?"

"It isn't working," replied the other in a cheeky tone, "and I want you to figure out what's wrong with it and fix it. If you need any tools, they're in this box at the corner of the table. This will be your job while we're waiting for another Mini-Con signal." Starscream glance at him. "Please," added the bulldozer.

"Uh," said the ex-Decepticon and stared long and hard at the generator. Cables snaked out of the flat, dark panels where linked circuitry could be seen through the cracks. It wasn't damaged by weapons or bullheaded Autobots, so that must've meant it was an internal issue.

With some reserve, Starscream reached out and pulled the block to him, his processor already working. It probably helped power one of the warp gates. Taking one of the chairs in the rec room, the seeker scooted close to the table and began picking at the panels to pull them off. He didn't even notice Scavenger thank him and disappear, wandering to the hallway. As if escaping into a dream, Starscream began tinkering and pulling things apart, piece by piece. Opening the toolbox, he grabbed various riggings and other things, enjoying the feel of having something in his hands again. A satisfied, relaxed sensation came over the young mech, something he hadn't felt in a long while.

Meanwhile, Optimus and Scavenger stood at the door and talked quietly between each other.

"It's like he's in a trance," murmured the bulldozer, a small smile spreading across his face.

"Jetfire had mentioned about Starscream's past and his interest in going to the Academy. I think I can pull him away from his desperate need to kill Megatron if I can give him something he can put himself into," replied the Commander. He had meant what he said to the seeker a day ago; he wanted Starscream to live, and to live happily. To have a second chance at a healthy, bright future.

"Well, we will see what happens. If he can fix things, all the better. I think Red Alert is splitting a little under the pressure of how much Hot Shot is destroying around here," mentioned his mentor with a light chuckle.

Optimus sighed. Hot Shot wasn't the only one.

"Good morning, Optimus," said a small, female voice beneath him. "Good morning, Scavenger."

The large mech turned his attention down and nodded at Alexis, a smile shining in golden optics. "Good morning, Alexis."

"Mornin', Alexis," replied the other Autobot.

The young woman turned her attention to Starscream, who was still thoroughly engrossed in his task. "What's he doing?" wondered the young woman.

"Fixing a generator. If Starscream had never joined the Autobots, you'd never know he's quite the scientist. He can both fix and invent things, and is highly intelligent," answered the Autobot leader.

"Wow!" exclaimed the girl, a smile spreading across her face. Without a second thought, she walked into the rec room, followed by her red Mini-Con.

Prime watched with interest as the human wandered hesitantly up to the ex-Decepticon, poking at one of the sensitive circuits in his leg to get his attention. Scavenger stiffened defensively when the red seeker whipped around to figure out who was touching him, until he noticed the two small figures at the base of his feet. Alexis spoke softly to him and Starscream, although looking a bit anxious, reached down and picked up both the girl and her Mini-Con. After gently setting them on the tabletop, Alexis situated herself, pulling her small laptop from her bag. The green Autobot next to Optimus relaxed, crossing his arms.

"There's nothing to worry about, Scavenger," said Prime happily, patting his friend on the shoulder. Alexis suddenly turned on some music, making the seeker jump with surprise and earned a laugh from the girl. The ex-Decepticon scowled, but didn't reprimand the human. "I think Starscream will get along just fine with them."

"It's hard to settle feelings that have lasted for so long," murmured his mentor thoughtfully. "However, it brings me hope to see him here."

The Commander nodded. "I believe Starscream also wants to make a better life for himself, he just has to _see_ it can get better. In the meantime, I have to speak to Blurr."

"I'll do it," said the larger mech. "Sometimes he can just be a bit rash. He didn't have a chance to see Starscream in pain before Ratchet got a hold of him. Speaking of which, you said his systems are balancing out?"

Optimus sighed. "Not exactly. His systems will remain balanced, so long as he releases the energy which rapidly builds up inside of him. I think I'm going to have Jetfire take him out at different times of the day to expel the said energy. At least then he can save his own tanks and throat from becoming seriously damaged."

"That's a good idea. Jetfire's easy to get along with," murmured Scavenger.

"He's also been keeping an eye on him for me. The Mini-Cons' sparks in Starscream can possibly alter the way he thinks, so it's incredibly important to make sure he's being observed, for now," said Prime quietly. He hated not giving the seeker the privacy he really sought after, but the Commander knew if the Mini-Cons were planting thoughts in his processor, they had to know. Particularly if those Mini-Cons also wanted revenge…

"Speaking of which, I'll monitor him while he's working on the generator," said the green Autobot, raising his arms behind his head as he walked back into the room. "I'll be here if you need me."

Optimus clearly saw it more as Scavenger's opportunity to hang out in the rec room and do nothing more than keep track of Starscream, but the Commander remained quiet. He needed someone to watch Starscream, anyways. Meanwhile…

Prime scoured the base until he found the other mech he was looking for: Jetfire. Surprisingly, he found the white mech at the firing range, and checked the log to see how long his second had been there. Optimus found himself further intrigued when he saw Jetfire had been there for almost four hours. Usually the shuttle would train for a couple of hours, at the most, before longing to go outside…the Commander couldn't help but wonder what was bothering the younger one.

"Jetfire," called Prime, just as the white Autobot finished another round.

Startled, Jetfire turned about, obviously not even realizing the Autobot leader had walked in. Unloading his pistol and placing it on a tray, the shuttle walked up to Optimus, his demeanor not as his casual, cheery self. "Hello, sir," murmured the larger mech quietly. "What brings you to this fine firing range?"

"You," answered the red and blue mech honestly, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Fire away," said his second.

"As you know, Starscream will need to expel the energy which builds up in his system almost every day. I would like you to go with him when he does it," said the Commander.

The white mech nodded. "Will do."

Optimus paused a moment, drawing Jetfire's weary gaze. The shuttle knew there was something else on his leader's processor, and he had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

Finally, Prime said gently, "Do you…feel attached to Starscream, Jetfire?"

The shuttle blinked at his superior. "Attached?"

"You are upset after what happened last night," said Optimus.

Jetfire felt his spark automatically clench and tried to keep his expressions straight. Thankfully his faceplate masked much of it. "He was just panicking…I was tired, too. Staying up so many nights in a row, it's taken a toll, I guess."

Prime fell silent again. It always made Jetfire nervous when his Commander psychoanalyzed him—it was hard for the white mech to keep his emotions disguised, try as he might. Plus, Optimus knew his second-in-command just a little too well. He already knew that Jetfire was drawn to Starscream just because the ex-Decepticon could fly; he also now knew that Starscream wanted to go to the Academy, as Jetfire once did. Plus, the white Autobot had a tendency to take the welfare of the soldiers underneath him as his own, particularly in small teams. Those three things combined were enough to give Prime every reason to put a little distance in between the two.

"That is a good point," murmured the red and blue mech as he rubbed his helm. Jetfire mentally sighed in relief; the last thing he wanted was Optimus to worry about Jetfire worrying about Starscream. "Well, seeing as you _have_ been taking care of Starscream for the past couple of weeks, do yourself a number and go get some recharge. I'll wake you when you need to take Starscream."

The white shuttle nodded again. This is why he loved working with a Prime. "Thanks, Optimus."

* * *

><p>Starscream's legs quaked as the white shuttle brought him back into the base.<p>

"Well, that was…fun?" said Jetfire softly.

"I wouldn't call that _fun_," replied the red mech, his words thick. _Primus_, he was so tired. His limbs felt empty, his processor begging for recharge.

The blast he'd created had really stolen the energy out of him; strangely, he never felt this way after battle—but then again, he'd never released so much power at once. Searing, white-hot energy traveled through the upper atmosphere like a comet, going on for miles before dispersing. Luckily, it had drained the seeker's body enough to shut the Mini-Con up for a while, allowing Starscream to hear his own voice. This whole _bunkmates_ situation was really starting to grate the ex-Decepticon's circuits. Clenching his teeth, the seeker made to stand on his own, only for his legs to sharply disagree with him, earning a gasp of surprise. Sagging against the Autobot, Jetfire tightened his hold around the other's waist and hoisted him up against his strong chassis, making sure the smaller mech didn't fall.

"Don't move too fast, Starscream," said the shuttle. "We're almost back to your bunk."

"Goodie," grumbled the exhausted seeker.

As they winded (or more like gimped) through the hallways, Starscream hung onto Jetfire like an anchor, glad for the white Autobot's presence. At first, the seeker was adamant about doing his "session" alone, but the larger mech had insisted it was an order from Prime himself that he was to go with. Starscream got the feeling the stubborn Autobot would follow him even the red one went by himself, so he finally relented. Fine. But if the damn fool got hit, it wasn't _his_ fault.

Now, even aside from Starscream's resistant behavior, Jetfire was still lugging him along, helping him get back to bed like a youngling who'd just thrown a tantrum. And although the ex-Decepticon didn't take to the fact that he was practically a wet rag (as Alexis put it) in the shuttle's enormous arms, he _did_ like that he didn't feel like he was growing to throw up his own tanks. He would take this feeling of utter helplessness over _that_ any day.

"At least you don't have to wait up on me all night," mumbled the seeker.

Jetfire glanced at him out of the corner of his optic. "At least you won't be sick all night, more so."

Starscream mumbled something else, but the shuttle didn't catch it. The red mech wasn't sure what to say anyways; his thoughts were growing muddled, his frame aching for the berth. Could he do this every day? When Jetfire at last stood before the seeker's room, all the strength in the smaller mech's neck disappeared and he leaned into the shuttle's shoulder, half asleep. He hadn't looked forward to recharge this much since…

Jetfire grunted, then, glaring at the keypad which opened the door. "That's strange. It locked itself."

Starscream pried his optics open long enough to see the glowing, red Cybertronian letters which spelled out _DENIED _on the small, black screen. If he was awake enough, he'd just hack into the lock himself, but he couldn't even focus long enough to sense Jetfire was turning around, pulling his arm up and around from large white shoulders. What he _did_ notice, however, was the second-in-command easing him to the ground, propping him up against the wall to ensure he didn't slide over.

"Stay here, okay? Sometimes the stuff glitches and I have to get Optimus to give me the master card key thing. Just hang here and don't move…although you're probably too tired to anyways," said the shuttle as he placed a hand on the seeker's helm.

Only half of the words registered in his mind, but Starscream nodded anyways, too bushed to care. All he wanted was just a little rest, a little break from the sad joke that had become his life. Jetfire stood and wandered away, his thunderous steps disappearing through the maze of corridors. Optics fluttering shut, Starscream embraced the darkness which draped over his processor, pulling him into unconsciousness. No nightmare tonight, no jitters, no pain, no nausea, just recharge. Finally. Maybe, though, Jetfire (if he wanted to) would stay with him, just to make sure he made it through the night. Somehow, he slept better than he'd ever done (even when he was with the Decepticons) with the shuttle's comforting weight beside him. His pounding spark. Even thinking about it made Starscream drift, his head lolling to the side.

Starscream was aware of someone holding his cheeks with rough fingers, another hand going for his throat. Instantly, and despite his fatigue, his optics opened, a furious Blurr crouched in front of him and tightening his grip around the seeker's neck. Blood-red optics were glowing with malice, an intent to punish, obviously searching for some kind of justice. Beside him, his white-and-blue Mini-Con was twittering worriedly at him, small hands pulling at his leg as though trying to convince his partner to back off. Blurr was intent, though, if his constricting hold said anything.

"I should _kill_ you for what you've done," he growled, although Starscream could sense an underlying sadness in his words. "You've killed so many Autobots and yet you think you can just _waltz_ in here and ask to be forgiven? For Optimus to waste his time helping _you?_ You don't deserve it _live!_"

Slamming the ex-Decepticon back into the wall, Starscream yelped, only to be caught by the sniper's angry grip again. Still drained, all the seeker could manage was to futilely cling to Blurr's arms, his hands trembling. The blue speedster was cutting off the flow of energon to the other's processor, he could feel it…a swallowing void was approaching him, beckoning him. A different type of darkness.

"If it wasn't for you, this war would've been over a _long_ time ago," continued the enraged Autobot, "and even at that, you gripe about killing Megatron as if he's the only one who's done you harm! You're like a spoiled little youngling…you make me sick!"

Blinking, Starscream's vision suddenly shifted. Instead of Blurr's blue and orange and white body, the seeker saw all the underlying veins of energon and lubricant, his glowing, hammering spark in a background of darkness. The sniper's pulse was going crazy—the mech might as well been driving at two hundred miles an hour. He really _did_ want to kill him.

Starscream's spark thudded with alarm as the seeker brought up his legs, attempting to kick the smaller mech off of him. The sportster was elusive, though, and managed to wriggle his way into sitting on top of the seeker, his hands closing the gaps in his neck. A deadening sensation crawled up Starscream's limbs, splotches of black clouding his already scrambled vision. His entire frame was wracked with tremors, unable to hold back the sportster. So this was really it, huh? He was going to die on the floor of the Autobot base. He wondered what Prime might say to Megatron, then, when the red one would altogether disappear from battle. He wondered what Jetfire might say. He hoped, if nothing else, the white shuttle might be a little sad. But—death was close and Starscream was drawn to the numbness, to the calming abyss. To finally break free from this horrible life, and to return to the Allspark. No more Megatron. No more Mini-Con. No more experiments. No more fighting. It suddenly seemed…right.

"You're…right…" choked out the seeker.

"What did you say, you _hypocrite?_" snapped Blurr.

"You're right," gasped Starscream. "Do us both a favor…and finish the job…"

A small chirrup; the Mini-Con. Blurr's hold didn't relinquish.

The red seeker ground his teeth, the instinct to survive still hounding him. _Push him back._ But he couldn't. He was too weak. And…he wanted to die. "I've done nothing…but be a…a nuisance…every time I…tried to fix something…I'd end up breaking it more…so…"

"Shut up!" yelled the Autobot suddenly. "Don't even talk! Don't turn this into me granting you some kind of…of…_favor!_"

"Kill me…Blurr…" whispered the seeker. "Primus knows…I've only caused pain to those around me…"

"_Shut up!_"

"**Kill him, Blurr.**"

Time ground to a halt. The Autobot's grip weakened as the speedster swung to the right to look at his Mini-Con, where the deep voice stemmed from. Wide optics pinned the tiny mech, who was staring up at his partner like a drone, his usual red visor was now white, mirroring Starscream's optics.

"**You're right. He killed Autobots. Friends. Allies. He should be dead. He doesn't deserve to live. Kill him.**"

Blurr froze. "Incinerator…?" he asked quietly. "What…are you..?

The Mini-Con leaped onto the smaller mech's arm, jabbing a small finger at Starscream. "**This could be your only chance. Do it now! **_**Kill him, Blurr!**_"

Shaken, the sniper bolted to his feet, stumbling back from both Starscream and his Mini-Con, who dropped to the ground near the seeker's feet. The ex-Decepticon could still see Blurr's spark through his armor, which, somehow, was pulsating even _faster_ within his chest. Terrified. Stunned. His Mini-Con just spoke—in someone else's voice, and not a friendly one at that.

"Y-you…" whispered the speedster, his gaze still on his small partner. "You…_stay away from me!_"

Then, he took off into a sprint, booking it down the corridor. It was wrong. All so wrong. That _wasn't_ Incinerator. That was…

For a brief minute, Blurr just ran. He couldn't even allow himself to think of Starscream—a fragging _Decepticon_—or of his Mini-Con. His partner. The one he trusted the most. He became something else, _someone_ else. His little red visor was glowing white, taken over by some other malignant force. They matched with the seeker's own resonating optics, dead, yet still somehow alive. They weren't just _white_, either, they seemed to drag him in, to take him somewhere that he couldn't escape. Dominating, detached and calculating. So much like a drone, but at the same time…

Blurr had convinced himself as soon as he heard Starscream had "joined" the Autobots that the seeker was up to something, here to only further his own ego. The speedster was certain he would find out, would be able to stop Starscream before he ended up killing someone. He thought shocking the fool would be enough to bring out the truth, to make him realize who he was dealing with. He would just threaten his life, make it _seem_ like he was going to kill him. Halt the Decepticon in his tracks. Bring out the evidence. Throw him into the brig. The egotistical seeker valued his life above all else—or, at least, he did at one point. But this time, he…he—

Turning around a sharp corner, Blurr collided into something hard and stumbled back, nearly landing on his aft. A hand snapped out and caught his wrist, though, keeping him from collapsing.

"Blurr?" asked Hot Shot. "You okay, man?"

Jetfire was also there. "You look like you just saw—"

"Get off of me!" exclaimed the sniper, yanking at his arm. "Let me go!"

The yellow Autobot didn't release him, however, his hold remarkably strong. Instead, the young tactician only stiffened his grip, dragging the blue mech closer to him. "Hey, hey! Clam down, it's alright, what happened?"

"_Don't touch me!_" cried out the speedster.

Hot Shot, nonetheless, wrapped an arm around Blurr's shoulders, keeping him from bolting away. Despite himself, Blurr was frantic, his usual calm demeanor totally broken from the alien experience. Starscream's white optics—they kept jumping out at him, cold and unfeeling. They seemed to follow him everywhere, even amidst his distraught thoughts.

"Hey! It's okay, calm down," murmured Hot Shot, Jetfire towering next to him.

The kid—_damn him_—was resilient, his grip on the blue mech's wrist like a vice. He couldn't run away. Period. The arm around his shoulders kept him trapped against Hot Shot's chest, but that didn't keep him from squirming in the tactician's embrace.

A small twitter and Blurr froze, his optics slowly dropping to the small figure at his feet. Gasping, the sniper pushed into Hot Shot, eager to bring distance in between himself and his Mini-Con. Incinerator gazed up at his partner, his visor red again, his arms reaching up to the speedster.

"_No_," gasped the larger, shaking his head. "I _said_—"

"Blurr," said Jetfire suddenly, his tone that of a second-in-command, "that is your Mini-Con. Your partner. Why are you afraid of him?"

The racer simply shook his head, Starscream's white optics flooding his memory. They were going to haunt his dreams for weeks.

"_Blurr_," pressed the white shuttle as he gripped the smaller mech's shoulder. The sniper finally glanced at the other, his red optics enormous. "What happened?"

Cycling a shaky breath, the blue sportster finally said, "_Starscream_."

* * *

><p><em>What have you done?<em>

**I saved your life.**

Starscream brought in a strangled breath, fingers massaging the sore spots which were now imprinted on his neck. Rain was battering against his frame like a million tiny bullets, a musical number which drowned out his hulking trek through the muddy woods, branches snapping and trees groaning as he passed them. Somehow he'd managed to find his way to the space bridge—despite the fact he was practically _blind_—and punched up whatever location the Autobots had gone to last. A forest, deep and thick, out in the middle of Primus-knows-where. He couldn't stay there. Not like this. Not with…

The image of Blurr's terrified optics flashed through his vision again, a depiction of stunned horror at his hypnotized Mini-Con. Blurr had every right not to trust him; all the Autobots did, for that matter. But they _had_ trusted him, brought him in, took care of him, treated him as their own.

"_You think you can just waltz in here and ask to be forgiven?"_

Blurr was right. Primus, he was so right. The realization was more painful than the bruises on his neck.

_We can't go back there._

**Don't be mad at me. I could've killed him—but I didn't.**

"You _used_ Incinerator against him!" screamed the seeker.

**Fancy little trick, huh? I wonder if Megatron would have the same reaction. Probably not. We're all just resources to him.**

"This isn't about Megatron," returned Starscream as he reached for another pine tree, the timber groaning in protest as he laid his weight on it. "You…you took control of Incinerator, you…"

**I could've killed him. Would you have rather me to?**

"I deserve it," mumbled the red mech. As he took another step, his foot sunk into a lake of mud and he tumbled, diving straight into the filthy pool. The brown muck went everywhere, straight into his wiring, his panels, his joints. Starscream lifted his hand and rubbed the grimy texture in between his fingers. _Gross._

**Organic planets—such filthy places.**

Ignoring the voice in his head, Starscream lifted himself; his arms quaked and then bent, his head dropping back into the mud with a resounding _splat_. Frustrated and hurt, the seeker just laid there, the rain pitter-pattering against his metallic armor. He was so tired and so _over_ this life he couldn't stand being in his own body. He felt like a stranger looking down on someone else's mistakes who, instead of them receiving the blame, _he_ was being punished. But, maybe that was just the Decepticon in him talking. _He_ decided to join the Decepticons. A gun wasn't pointed at his head. He wasn't coerced or threatened. He was young, he was eager. _Primus_, if only he could go back in time and tell himself…

**Well, that doesn't get us anywhere, does it?**

_If you hadn't done that to Blurr…_

**But I did. And I'd gladly do it again.**

_I deserve to be dead. Didn't you say so yourself? I've done so many horrible things and I haven't received any kind of reprimand. I've gotten off light. If Prime had any sense, he would've…_

**Well, that wouldn't have been very Autobot of him, would it? Besides, being the glorified punching bag of the Decepticon Leader comes with its perks.**

Starscream didn't reply right away. He wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean anyways…

**Are you just going to lay here all day, then?**

The seeker mentally growled at the offending Mini-Con. _We can't go back to that base. I can't let you torture those who have helped me._

**Blurr wasn't helping you. He was choking you. I know it's hard for you to tell a difference, but there is one, believe me. **

"I _know_ there's a slagging difference!" yelled the flier, tensing. A flock of birds scattered from the black trees above him, startled by the sharp voice cutting through the showering rain.

Settling again, Starscream felt the over-encumbering tiredness blanket over him. He wanted to just pass out for a few days straight, but he still owed Surge a few choice words. _These mechs are the nicest anyone's ever been to me, and you just destroyed whatever chance I had to join them._

**He was choking you, Starscream. I don't know about you, but anyone else would've seen that as a **_**bad sign**_**. Megatron had a knack for that behavior, didn't he? And, because you let it fly, you are now in the very same position as before. How long would it have been until the Autobots started treating you the same?**

_They wouldn't have—Jetfire never did._

**Jetfire is an anomaly. But this station won't exist forever. If you take a mission—without Jetfire—who knows who you'll end up with and how they'll deal with you. **

_Hot Shot never treated me this way…or Red Alert…or Scavenger…or Ratchet…Blurr was just scared for his team. He had a right to be. I would've done the exact same he did_.

**Then I guess you **_**did**_** deserve what you had coming.**

Starscream jerked in reflex when someone suddenly latched onto his arm, pulling him single-handedly from the pool of sludge and back onto his shaky feet. Whoever They Were released him as the seeker spat the gritty mud from his mouth, running a hand over his face to—albeit, pointlessly—clean off the unpleasant substance. Ew.

Glancing next to him, Starscream wondered who had trailed after him from the base. It was hard to see in the dark—and the special vision he had before seemed to have worn off when he went through the space bridge. The mech, though, was enormous and leaning over him, the rain thoroughly soaking their frame. Scavenger, maybe?

Then, a flash of lightening.

Reeling back, the seeker stumbled into a patch of pines, pushing away from the offending mech. _He's come to kill me._ Starscream's wings tangled with the branches as he tried to get away, the piercing red optics approaching him faster than he could run. A hand on his shoulder. Starscream screeched and thrashed. He let go. Dashing to the right, the seeker effectively tripped on a boulder and landed head-first into a gushing river. Water roared over his shoulder, shoving his frame against a few trees. _Stand up_. Somehow the ex-Decepticon got to his feet and away from the roaring water; glancing over his shoulder, he felt his spark drop into his tanks when he saw _he was standing right over him._

"Stop moving, fool," growled Megatron, baring his fangs. "You're going to end up looking like this forest by the end of the night."

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note_: Sorry for the wait! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Sorry if these chapters are lengthy—I'm a description lover n.n (hopefully not too boring) Hopefully you'll like this one!

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Transformers.

_Chapter 11_: Soldier

Jetfire was fuming—of all the mechs, of all the circumstances, of all _Starscream_—why in the pits did the moron have to scare him away? They might never see him again! Every soldier, including Optimus, spent a whole _hour_ searching up and down to hopefully find the shuttle's exhausted charge. Calling, turning over the storage rooms and scouring the generator room in the basement…nothing. He was gone. It was only until Scavenger had went to the spacebridge did they all figure out Starscream had managed to slip away. Wracked with anger and guilt, Jetfire and the rest had to _wait_ to see if his—or any other Decepticon signatures for that matter—appeared over the radar.

Jetfire, however, was relentlessly pacing the hall, Optimus glancing over his shoulder now and again from the communications room. Why—_why Blurr?_ He attacked when Starscream was weakened, too, no less. _What the hell were you thinking?_ Did he not trust his superiors?

Starscream, too—

Where the hell _was_ he? Did Megatron already find him? Was he fighting for his life right now? _Why in the pits are we all just _standing_ here?!_ Jetfire was just on this side from blowing a circuit, when suddenly Blurr materialized from around the corner. The two matched gazes and the speedster immediately went on the defensive, realizing how infuriated his superior was—and Jetfire was, indeed, one pissed off mech.

"What the frag _did you do_?" snapped Jetfire, hands balling into fists as he approached the smaller. "Why couldn't you trust your chain of command?!"

Blurr glared straight back with no hesitance at his second-in-command. "_I_ was trying to cover our afts! All of you idiots are so just _so willing_ to throw your arms open wide for one of the highest ranking Decepticons without the blink of an optic!"

"You have no pit-spawning _clue_ why he's here! You never even bothered to really find out what happened! How could you guess or assume if you don't even _know_ all the facts?!" continued Jetfire, his voice growing in volume.

"And what do you and Optimus _supposedly_ know?! What if he's just a fragging ticking time bomb that will blow us all to the edge of the galaxy, no thanks to our sentiment!" cried the sniper, throwing his arms in the air with exasperation.

Jetfire took an ominous step closer to the smaller. "_You didn't think we would've frelling noticed_—"

"Both of you, _shut up_!" snapped Hot Shot, shoving himself in between the two. "Bickering isn't going to help find Starscream!"

"Neither is wasting time _here!_" returned the larger mech as he turned his fury towards the other speedster.

Hot Shot stabbed a single finger to Jetfire's chest as he bared his teeth and growled, "Look, when Red Alert got a hold of him from the start, he thought it would be better to turn off Starscream's homing device so that Megatron couldn't trace him to our base. It's gonna take a few to hone in where he might be, so if don't mind _shutting your trap_ till then, those of us who are working can _focus!_"

The shuttle boiled, but didn't reply. Fine. So be it. But he was still so mad—he honestly just wanted to bash his head against the silver wall until his frustration was finally beaten from him. In the very least, he couldn't stand to be near Blurr without having another fit. He couldn't bear it. Turning on his heel, Jetfire stomped off into the direction of the space bridge. Up until now, everything had gone well…at least, they'd been able to keep Starscream so that Megahead couldn't get his greedy little mits on him. Now—now he might be gone and Jetfire would lose the one mech he felt like he had a connection to. He hated feeling like this…so frelling helpless. Starscream was gone—and it was his entire fault.

* * *

><p>"What do you want, <em>Megatron<em>?" spat Starscream, venom in his voice. Reaching up to his left shoulder, he silently instructed his sword to begin powering up.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," started Megatron as he crossed his arms, "Autobot code of conduct instructs that no soldier can harm unarmed mechs. Which includes me."

"_Megatron_—come unarmed?" sneered Starscream in return. "I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it, _fool_," snapped the Decepticon leader. Impatient, as always—but that meant he wasn't lying, that much the seeker could tell. "I've come to talk peacefully, but if we _must_ resort to violence, I will and I don't need my weapons to assist me."

"I could've guessed otherwise," laughed the smaller mech in response, but his hand dropped by his side nonetheless. "You were falling around pretty well in the last battle."

Megatron growled in annoyance, but didn't fall into the trap. Lightning cracked through the sky again, encompassing the entire forest in a brief moment of stark light. Megatron was as himself—arms crossed over his massive chassis, leaning on one leg as he scowled at the dirty seeker, crimson optics gleaming against his grey face. His own feet were caked in mud, which meant he must've been walking around for a while. Why? Not _really_ just to come talk to him?

"So what brings the eminent _Lord_ _Megatron_ out to this humble forest?" asked Starscream with a curled lip.

"I was going to ask you the same question," retorted the purple Decepticon. "I could've guessed you were trying sparklink with the forest."

The seeker was thrown a loop by the joke—Megatron didn't really make a lot of jokes. His kind of _joke_ was still how long you would last against four fully-armed Autobots. Aside from the weird tone, Starscream also didn't like the way Megatron was trying to make conversation. The Decepticon leader had grown all-too-accustomed to simply giving orders and expecting them to be carried out. Having a discussion with the brute meant he was either explaining to you why you were an idiot, explaining his orders for you, or complaining about Optimus Prime. He wasn't exactly a _How's the weather?_ type of mech.

"You know, mechs would think you're up to something out here," grumbled Starscream as he folded his arms together, "being friendly isn't your style. I'll ask again: What do you want?"

"You don't know what _style_ I have, Starscream—"

"—I'm not fragging _stupid_, Megatron!" screeched Starscream, instantly furious.

_No_.

He _had_ to control his emotions. Feeding into the Decepticon's game would just put the tyrant in the driver's seat. Cycling a sharp breath, the seeker started again: "If we're not here to fight, then I have no reason to talk to you. Have a nice life, Megatron."

Starscream turned on his heel, then, eager to be alone and sleep. This was probably the dead-last thing to do as far as his priorities were concerned—and he couldn't imagine _why_ Megatron would bother to even show up anyway. The torrents of rain were still coming down hard, and he wanted to get this mud out of his gears and get some shut-eye. The need to recharge was still hounding him, assaulting his exhausted frame on all sides.

"Stop."

Despite himself, the seeker halted, turning towards the tank again. "_What?_"

Megatron thought for a brief moment, then, "I'm sure you think I betrayed you, Starscream, but I can assure you that I was doing this _for_ you."

Stunned, the red mech stared at the other for a second before, inexplicably, both the Mini-Con _and_ Starscream burst out laughing together. The raging river beside them washed out the double-layered voice, luckily, but it didn't stop Starscream from almost keeling over from laughing so hard. His still-weak legs even faltered a bit as he bent over, holding his stomach as though it would burst from him. When his laughter bubbled down to small chuckles, the seeker glanced back at Megatron to see him giving a cold glare, enough to put even Hot Shot on his aft. At this, Starscream scowled sharply. "Oh, you're _serious_."

"Of _course_ I'm serious," replied the tank as he flung his arm through the air in aggravation. "You wanted to be stronger than the rest. A super soldier with enough firepower to take down whole armies. Am I wrong?"

Starscream mulled for a moment, squinting at the larger mech. "At one time, maybe."

Megatron scoffed, shaking his head with frustration as though he were dealing with an ornery youngling. "Don't _lie_ to me, Starscream. You're doing this to make me wrong and I'm _not_ wrong. You wanted power. I gave it to you. Albeit it wasn't the most ethical of practices—but we're not Autobots, are we? We never were. You've put on this…_ploy_ long enough."

"See, and that's what you don't _understand_, Megatron," replied the seething seeker as he took a slow step backward, "I didn't want just…_power_. I wanted _respect_. And, somehow, no matter _what_ I did for you, no matter how many times I fought for you or tried to help with the Decepticon cause, it was _never good enough_. If anyone's putting on a _ploy_…it's you."

"Don't _give_ me that contemplating crap, Starscream—"

"—See! _There!_ There it is, and always will be—!"

"—_What_ is there—?"

"—That you don't give a _frag!_" cried the other, his hands balling into fists as he lurched towards the Decepticon leader. "You don't _care!_ Well, you care about your crusade masked as a _pissing contest_ with Optimus Prime, but I might as well be _scrap metal_ laying around as far as you're concerned! You would sooner throw me to the fire which _you_ started than, just for a _second_, listen to what I had to say!"

Megatron growled again, straightening his posture. "And what, exactly, did you have to say?"

Stopping, the seeker's mouth gaping, blue optics wide, the showering rain soaked through the argument as the younger mech thought and Megatron waited. A brief, haunting moment passed as Starscream finally replied, voice dark, "Everything. I might as well not been Air Commander at all."

When the seeker didn't add anything, the tank answered, "I didn't bring you along _just_ be an Air Commander. You were the best at what you did—flying. I didn't need to hear you commentary or your opinions, I needed you to do what I said. A point which you _conveniently_ forget at every turn."

Starscream shook his head in disbelief. Despite having the opportunity to feed Megahead his own medicine, the seeker's spark was beating rapidly, one hurt beat after another. He wanted to shake the Decepticon leader and to have him actually _listen_—if only for five freaking minutes. But that was the thing—that's why he was wasting his breath, even as he continued on to ask, "You think…this all just about turning me into some oversized semiconductor? You seriously think this is the _only_ time you've betrayed me?"

The Decepticon was dubious at best. "And what other time did I betray you, exactly?"

Glaring at the other, Starscream snapped, "How about the time when you had _your hand on my throat?!_"

Megatron fell quiet, his face swathed in shadow so the seeker couldn't see the details of his expression. A thick pause passed by for what seemed like forever—and then he spoke. "When you are leader to a pack of villains and criminals, Starscream, you need to make the hard decisions to keep the ruffians in check. I needed to prove—_not_ just to you—but to _everyone_ that _I'm_ still in control. What do you think would happen if I started to waver? My soldiers are not petty Autobots, but part of the underground. They play dirty and I need to be _brutal_ in order to keep them from stepping out of line. Do you understand me?"

"_But it was always me!_" yelled the seeker, voice breaking. "It wasn't _Cyclonus_ or _Demolisher_ or _Thrust_ or _anyone!_ It was _Starscream…_he's the one to blame for the miscalculation, for our failed mission. But no, never _Megatron._ Perfect, immaculate Megatron is never to blame."

"You're being overdramatic, Starscream," grumbled the other, shrugging his shoulders with indifference.

The red mech was livid; he couldn't stand much more of Megatron's insensitive behavior, and the Mini-Con (for once) was in agreement with him. The scapegoat and—as Surge had put it—the glorified _punching bag_ of the Decepticons. And he was just supposed to go along with it, be okay with the fact that Megatron beat the living pits out of him for the sake of _keeping ruffians in line_. It was madness! _Total madness!_

Suddenly, Megatron started talking again, "Starscream—this is you. _This has always been you_. You're never satisfied with anything anyone does because it isn't you, specifically, doing it. The only reason you're defying me and being obedient to _Prime_ is to get back at me. I know this. I know _you_. But you're a Decepticon at your very core; you were always meant to be in my ranks."

"How would _know!?_" cried Starscream, the suddenly image of Jetfire jumping in his processor. "I could've been anything else in this pit-slagging galaxy if it hadn't been for the fragging war! You have no idea what else I can do!"

The Decepticon leader leisurely eased to his left leg, crossing his arms in haughty amusement. "Like what? Fly useless circles in space and find dead planets? Fix generators all day? That's not who you are. You're a fighter. You stand up when others lay down—even if it gets you punished."

Grinding his teeth, Starscream shook his helm, words trapped in his vocal box as Megatron stood there, pretentious and proud, still so sure in every lie that passed his lips, in every twisted thought that filtered through is processor. _He's insane!_ The seeker's thoughts were going in circles, his blue optics enormous as he stared at the one mech he'd once believed in. _Had I once been the same?_

"You have lost your _mind!_" screeched Starscream finally, a chasm opening in between them. "You don't deserve Cybertron _or_ to win this war!"

Megatron didn't answer, didn't utter a word.

Starscream gritted his teeth.

"I _hope_ Optimus Prime takes—!"

The sentence wasn't finished because Megatron lunged at him, hands diving for the seeker's throat.

Starscream yelped as he was thrown backwards, the full weight of the tank slamming down on top of him. Fingers pressed sharply down on the sensitive wiring and soft, skin-like material (much rougher than Blurr's hands) as, once again, energon was trapped in the veins. Spark thundering in Starscream's audio receptors, the red mech caught a bout of strength and pitched the purple Decepticon to his right, snapping a few trees in the process as his heavy frame hurtled against the earth. Coughing, the seeker stumbled, making a break for it while he could.

If the tank didn't intent to kill him before, he certainly had the initiative now (no thanks to his blabbering mouth). The worst part is that his fall earlier in the mud pit left him unable to transform—if the disgusting substance got into his inner circuitry, he would pass out in mid-flight, possibly killing himself while trying to escape. He had to run, but his legs were struggling, threatening to fold underneath him. _Primus…_

_I'd love to get some backup here, _Surge.

**Releasing so much energy with Jetfire before has left **_**both**_** of us exhausted. I'm trying my best to stay awake here, **_**Starscream.**_

_This is fragging perfect._

**Call in the Autobots.**

_You're frelling kidding me, right?_

**It's the only choice.**

A growl.

Then, hands again—pulling at his wings. Bending them backwards.

Starscream didn't hold back the window-shattering scream as the metal twisted beneath determined fingers, pain blinding him for a brief moment. For only a few seconds, there was relief. Then, it came back in a vengeful rush, like his spine was slitting in half— blazing agony sliced down his spinal cords, into his thrusters and through his limbs. He was on fire, his circuits seeming to melt under the mind-blowing pain. His hands were clawing at the ground, a desperate attempt to get away, mud encrusting his hands and arms.

_OPTIMUS!_

Then, Megatron let go. Starscream fell limp, faintly aware of his surroundings, strangled gasps escaping him as the pain settled into a burning throbbing. A weight settled on his back. The purple mech was planted securely below his thrusters, keeping the seeker pinned to the ground as murky runoff traveled over his body. Darkness shrouded his view, his audio receptors ringing. He could've sat there for a few minutes or for hours—he couldn't tell.

Above him, the Decepticon leader was talking now, his low tone filtering through the rain and Starscream's clouded thoughts.

"…get ready…"

_Oh, Primus…_

**Turn on your thrusters, Starscream.**

_I can't feel anything…_

**You **_**have**_** to bring your thrusters online. Hurry up!**

_I can't…_

**Starscream, he's going to **_**take**_** us!**

But he couldn't move—couldn't even put sentences together.

"…make sure…and tell Hook…"

Optics snapped open, a single, terrifying moment of reliving the whole operation again. The needles, the wires, the tubes, Hook's hands forcefully opening the Mini-Con's spark chambers while they were still awake. The agony, the vulnerability. Hook's shining red optics, a sick satisfaction of being able to mutilate what Primus had originally designed.

_No!_ _I will _not…_go back to that!_

By some miracle, the seeker summoned the strength to bring his thrusters onto full blast and propelled himself from Megatron's grasp, throttling into a thicket of heavy bushes and trees before haphazardly landing in a meadow. Dirt and grass and rocks exploded around him like confetti as he finally came to an excruciating stop, his thrusters smoking. A groan escaped him, head spinning; trembling arms were pushing him up, though, Surge's voice in his head, prattling on unintelligible words. Legs were sliding beneath him, putting him back on his feet. The Mini-Con was getting him up and going, but the movements were unnatural and had no coordination—he looked like a drunken puppet on slack strings and it wasn't but a few steps before Starscream had collapsed to the ground again.

**Starscream. If you don't do something, **_**I **_**will and it'll probably kill us both.**

_I think I'm going to just…close my optics for a few kliks…_

**Starscream, **_**NO!**_

Megatron's snarling voice called over the rain, searching for him. Damn, he'd hoped that blast would've been enough to _at least_ singe the damn tyrant, but he was so frelling irrepressible…

**Starscream, **_**get up!**_

Chomping down on his lip, the seeker fought through the fog in his mind, deciding just to _frag it_ and low crawl his way to safety. Reaching above his head, the red mech sunk his fingers into the waterlogged pasture and wrenched himself forward. Hot, fresh pain coursed through his back and into his wings, gracefully reminding him that his back was injured. _Primus_, why did he run from the base? He thought Blurr might talk, might say something that would forever brand Starscream as a monster.

But now—_now_ he was really in for it.

He would be taken back to the Decepticons' base and truly changed into something horrible. For the first time, a thought struck Starscream which he never imagined before. He wished more than anything that Jetfire were here—he'd even take the red-orbed, claw-baring one—just to pick him up and take him back to the protection of the base. His enormous, prevailing arms seemed so out of reach…

"_Starscream!_"

Flinching, the seeker stopped only a second before he sucked in a deep breath of moisture and shoved himself into a feeble standing position, gritting his teeth when his wings brushed along some stray branches. _Ow. Ow, ow, ow._

Then—there was that fragging hand again, grazing his shoulder.

_NO!_

With a growl, Starscream swung around and tossed Megatron from him with one swipe, surprised that he had any strength from the Mini-Con left. In the back of his head, he felt a matching, hard resolve that wasn't his own…Surge.

**I have…no intention of going back there, either.**

Enraged, the tank sprang back to his feet, eager for round two. Red optics burned through the darkness, as though he was trying to choke Starscream with his thoughts alone. The flying mech coughed harshly, his throat aching from the (two!) assaults on the sensitive area. Damn it, why always for the _neck?_

Despite himself, Starscream's mouth broke into a nasty smirk. "So…quite the irony, isn't it? You…trying to appeal to me to come back…and I _still_ end up getting the…slag beat out of me..." Even his voice was weak, crackling with static.

"I tried to reason with you, Starscream," replied the Decepticon leader, "you _are_ a Decepticon and always _will be_ a Decepticon, no matter how to you try to dress yourself up as an Autobot. Your nature doesn't allow otherwise."

Starscream remained quiet, the rain still beating down on them as if it would never stop. "I would rather be an ex-Decepticon serving under Optimus Prime…then be a super-soldier serving under you, Megatron."

"Then I guess we'll have to do this the hard way!" exclaimed the larger mech. "Soundwave!"

Gasping, the seeker could only blink before the silent Decepticon was on him, Soundwave's feet on his chest and propelling him to the ground with crushing force. As soon as his wings scathed the pines around him, the red one shrieked, diving right back into searing agony. Stars scattered over his vision as he pounded against the ground, hands grappling the scout's foot. A hand on his wing. Another scream. _Struggle_. Thrashing, the seeker stabbed his fingers directly into Soundwave's knee joint, curling the wires around the digits and yanking. An arch of blue light. The lieutenant didn't make a sound—only twitched as he unsheathed his sword, whirling it once in the air before touching the toned tip against the surface of Starscream's wing.

"I-I hope…you don't get caught…the same way I did…" whispered the seeker as he continued to pull at the cords. Less of a concern, more of a warning. "I hope, Soundwave…you don't become just a…_resource_…"

The communications officer didn't reply—he did, however, drag the wickedly sharp blade across the sensitive surface, earning a scream in return.

There was pain—piercing, unspeakable _pain_.

His throat was on fire, the tips of his fingers feverishly digging into the leg armor, which bent beneath the pressure. Feet dug into the earth, kicking, fighting for release. For the umpteenth time that night, the agony ended and Starscream was left gasping, struggling to come to terms. The trees looming above him were spinning round and round, the telltale signs of nausea creeping up on him. Every nerve and circuit in his left wing was crying, his sensory grid frayed and burning. Bright energon tears crawled down his grey, exhausted face, the rain mixing with the pink.

A second shadow appeared. Then, "Well, Starscream?"

The seeker coughed, hands still clenching Soundwave's leg. "Well…_what_, Megatron…?"

"Are you finally spent of trying to defy me?" he asked slowly.

_Oh, by the Allspark itself._ The fool just never gave up, did he? Despite the immense hurt, Starscream found it in him to smirk at the Decepticon leader again, his mouth quivering as if it took all his strength. "You really…are that stupid…"

The red mech could just barely see the frown crossing over Megatron's features—then a grunt. Once more, Soundwave swung his katana in the air before shanking it directly in the joint between Starscream's right arm and his shoulder. A startled sound escaped the seeker, somewhere in between shock and horror. _Oh no. No, no, no._ Then, the lieutenant lifted his arm and reached for the other blade, circling it once before diving for the exact same spot. Starscream was rooted, shocked blue orbs gaping at the two blades, anticipation choking him. _Oh no!_ With an easy movement, Soundwave popped the joint apart, wires and cables splitting, and was rewarded with another tormented shriek. For a few, blissful seconds, all the pain had disappeared, leaving the seeker disoriented. Then, it came reeling back with retaliation—like a tidal wave of molten lava. His wing, his arm, his back was destroyed, his entire frame singing in insatiable agony. He was crippled. He wouldn't be able to walk for a week—probably wouldn't be able to fly for longer. Not enough to kill him, but definitely enough to totally knock him off the _invincible_ pedestal he'd been standing on for a while.

How _he_ was still conscious was a fragging miracle; but it seemed all for not: Surge was out cold, and Starscream didn't know how to summon the other two Mini-Cons sleeping in his spark chamber.

But, giving up to Megatron would be the last thing he would do. He _had_ to try.

_If one of you can hear me…_

"You see, Starscream…" the purple tank's voice floated above, "you have forgotten your place. Because of this, I'm left to resort to drastic measures. Is that what you want?"

_If one of you can feel this pain…_

Starscream blinked slowly, optics heavy as he stared up at the shadowed figures crouched over him. The faint taste of energon was on his tongue and he slid his glossa over his lips before he swallowed, trying to gather the words he so desperately wanted to say. "I…I have just…become another victim…of your autocracy…Megatron…"

_If one of you can see what's happening…_

"Just another excuse," answered Megatron with barred, sharp teeth. "I gave you this gift and you threw it back in my face."

_Please…wake up…!_

Hollow, black optics flashed in the back of Starscream's processor. The seeker drew in a sharp gasp, optics widening, his very insides shuddering at the sudden fierce, dark presence which was now awake. That wasn't Surge. It was something else—and it was alert and it was…_powerful_. This Mini-Con didn't say anything, but _moved_ inside of Starscream's body as if there was a whole other entity beneath his armor. Like a snake, it traveled from his spark and into his neck, _feeling around_ where both mechs had strangled him earlier, touching the sore spots. It knew…it knew what happened.

"M…Megatron…!" cried out the red seeker in alarm, his still-working hand clutching his cockpit, just above his spark. "There's…!" His fingers found his throat, as if to stop the very unnatural sensations happening beneath the surface. "There's…something…!"

"What in the pits is wrong now?" grumbled the Decepticon, lowering himself to get a better look.

"The…the Mini-Con, it's…!"

* * *

><p>AN: I hope the last part with the Mini-Con made sense. ( *whines* writing is hard)

I originally had planned to make Megatron a lot more nasty as far as the storyline was concerned, until I read Kyoya-TheShadowKing's small drabble about this story which inspired me to tweak Megatron from being nasty to just having different views on things. As in the Bay movies, Megatron was once a firm but steady leader who ruled Cybertron with Optimus until he began conquering—and things went downhill from there.

Hoped you liked it! Read and review, please.


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Transformers.

_Chapter 12_: Hunger

A click. The sound of metal against metal.

"It's _over_, Megatron."

Lifting his gaze, the Decepticon leader came optic-to-gun-barrel, the smooth, black finish of a shotgun glistening from the wetness of the downpour. Next to him, the glow of the Star Saber starkly contrasted with the darkness of the night, humming loudly against Soundwave's neck.

Starscream was floored. "O-Optimus…!"

"Come with your little sidekick, Prime?" growled the tank, not daring to move.

Optimus didn't satisfy Megatron with a retort, only instructing the larger mech to _get to his feet and back off_. The Autobot leader stood defensively over Starscream's quivering frame as Megatron took cautious steps and dragged a limping Soundwave backwards, the blue mech's knee sparking blue and white from the exposed circuits. Hot Shot, with the simmering sword, stood in front of his commander in a solid stance, his face dead serious as he particularly watched the lieutenant. With those two katanas and Soundwave's elusive moves, he had his work cut out for him (even if he _was_ injured).

Starscream, meanwhile, gaped in astonishment at the two mechs who'd rushed in to help. They had actually _looked_ for him—and were _protecting_ him. Blurr must've told them what happened by now, but here they were, against all odds. A feeling resonated in the seeker's spark that he hadn't felt in ages—gratitude. He was _so stupidly happy_ at seeing Optimus Prime's face, he would kiss the commander if he could. In those seconds, Surge regained consciousness and had smothered his sinister counterpart into submission, shoving him back in the small, dark corner of the seeker's spark chamber.

"I don't suppose saying I'm unarmed will help," muttered Megatron, lifting his empty hands as if to prove his point.

"That didn't seem to stop you anyways," retorted the speedster as he twisted his grip on the Star Saber, frustrated. "You're one messed up individual, Megahead."

"Fortunately for you I have to bring Starscream in for immediate medical care," said Optimus calmly—but Hot Shot knew he only sounded that way only because he was really _pissed off_ on the inside. "Therefore, you will go _back_ to your hole and hide, for now."

Megatron didn't respond. A few tense and calculated moments passed before the Decepticon leader grabbed Soundwave's arm and hauled the smaller mech around, marching in the opposite direction. Their forms disappeared into the foggy vegetation and hammering rain, but Prime, of course, waited a few minutes before the reassuring light of a warp gate glowed just over the inky trees and then darkened again, taking the Decepticons with it.

"Optimus…" choked Starscream, on the cusp of unconsciousness—it bore down on him like the heaviest kind of gravity—but, he needed to stay awake. He needed to tell him. "Optimus…sir…"

"It's alright, Starscream, we've got ya," assured Hot Shot as he turned to the seeker, squatting down. He allowed the Mini-Cons of the Star Saber to disassemble, the three small white forms surrounding the seeker with concerned chirps. "Probably not the most ingenious idea, though—running off and all."

Prime, as well, stepped away from standing over Starscream, his optics still glowering where Megatron had sauntered off. After another strained second, his placed the small shotgun in his subspace, before gentle, golden optics flicked towards the wounded mech.

Swallowing the rock in his throat, Starscream attempted to speak, his voice like gravel. "I…I'm sorry…"

Kneeling, the Autobot commander said, "It's alright, Starscream."

"B-Blurr, he…"

"Blurr's just a little shaken. I don't think he really understood your situation."

Hot Shot grunted. "_That's_ putting it lightly. Don't worry, Blurr's just headstrong. Doesn't really think before just taking off, y'know? You'll come to find that out."

"Meanwhile…you are _filthy_…we have to get you back to the base, clean off some of this…" sighed Optimus, glaring at the offending substance.

For all Transformers—regardless of faction—hated anything that could get into inner circuitry and harm the small, fragile workings. Of course, organic planets like this, it was all too often these elements were abound and had a knack of getting in there, whether you tried to prevent it or not. Sand, mud, snow, oil, _whatever_—and Starscream was thoroughly coated, inside and out.

The two Autobots above him regarded their drained and incapacitated charge, Hot Shot frowning at the dislodged right arm and the wires poking out. "Man, I hate that guy. Why did he have to go and dislocate your shoulder?"

"I-I was…being unruly…" was the trembling response.

The speedster scratched the back of his neck, shaking his head. "Just seems overboard to me."

Prime only nodded as he bent over further, making to lift the ex-Decepticon. A hand shot out and caught his shoulder, however, stopping him and the semi glanced in surprise at the seeker.

Starscream ground his teeth, jaw tight, tears still racing down his cheeks. He must've looked more pathetic than ever, but it couldn't wait another second. He had to do this…even if Prime, in turn, hated him for it.

"W…wait…Optimus…I have to tell you," gasped the flier, sensing Surge tighten in anticipation; it was as if he was holding his breath, knowing what Starscream was about to say. "The Mini-Cons…they're awake…I mean, _one_ of them is awake. I'm so, so sorry I didn't tell you. He's…he's the one that scared Blurr. He's the one that woke up every time I tried to kill Megatron. He's been…please, I never meant…"

"Starscream." Optimus' expression was that of total benevolence—calm acceptance. "It can wait until we get back to the base."

Words caught in the seeker's throat, blue optics connecting with golden ones as the red mech stared up at his commander. The echoing drumming of the rain on their frames seemed to grow softer, quieter, as if the danger had finally passed. No-one had actually…_saved_ him before. Come to his rescue. Driven the enemy away. It was always something he had to do himself (escape, usually), and the fact that Optimus and Hot Shot had shown up so close to the point of him being _taken_ was…it made that much sweeter.

Hot, fresh tears collected at his optics as Starscream drew in a shaky breath, nodding as he relaxed in his bed of mud. His hand slid from Prime's shoulder as the Autobot leader resumed what he intended to do. Arms dug into the earth, sliding beneath the red mech's frame, drawing the injured one closer against his massive chassis. Lifted from the ground (thank Primus), Starscream bit back the overwhelming, blistering nausea that settled when his wings touched even the faintest of the things. The rain was unbearable enough the frayed paint and bent metal, but when a branch scratched its lethal pine needles across his sensory grid, he _writhed_. Optimus jerked to a stop, having to clench the flier firmer to his body so he wouldn't tumble back to the ground.

"Oh, frag! Optimus, his _wings_," said the young mech, his voice just barely audible against the ringing in the red one's scattered thoughts. "They…Megatron bent his wings backwards."

"_Primus…_" grunted the Autobot, stepping away from the prickly forest life. Shrugging a slumped Starscream against to him, Hot Shot took the initiative and placed his dislocated arm across his cockpit, ensuring it wouldn't knock into anything. Disoriented, the wounded mech could hear the commander's beating spark and latched onto the comforting sound. Pounding—powerful. An anchor.

"And I thought the shoulder was enough…" continued Prime.

"Fragging Megahead always has to go _overboard_," countered the scout.

"Get Red Alert on the line. Tell him to open the warp gate from right here," said Optimus, his arms already aching against the ex-Decepticon's deadweight. Even for a lean, thin seeker, Starscream was fragging _heavy_. Jetfire made it seem he was only carrying a youngling and could easily haul Starscream in his huge arms for miles—but, even with the Matrix of Leadership, there was only so much Prime could bear. And Starscream bared a lot. "With sense of urgency, Hot Shot."

The scout nodded, appealing to the medic over his comm. link. A sore groan escaped the limp seeker in Optimus' arms, the younger mech in desperate need of rest, but seeming to resist it all the same. How he hadn't passed out from the torture bothered Prime—either Starscream was simply used to it, or the Mini-Cons in his spark had a part to play. There was only so much their bodies could take as far as pain was concerned; it was just the natural way of things. Too much pain and the system would shut down, a protocol to prevent any maltreatment to the mind (essentially a way to prevent trauma). Over time, that protocol could be pushed—and it seemed Starscream had pushed it to its limits. But, it wasn't the first time. Somehow, the seeker managed to keep his demeanor throughout all of this, when the Mini-Con wasn't awake and vying for control. It only assured Optimus that Megatron had regularly beaten his second-in-command, and it left the Autobot that more _enraged_.

The soft light of the space bridge poured over the environment, liquid energy spilling onto the grass and breaking off like tattering leaves within the air. A green and blue vortex beckoned them in to the safety of the base and Optimus didn't hesitate to step through, faintly enjoying the sensation of the warmth rolling over his frame. A heady pull—then the comforting white walls of the Autobase surrounded them, florescent lights gleaming from the ceiling. Next to him, Hot Shot also wandered through, shaking the rest of the rain off of him. It puddled around their mucked-up feet, the mud smearing across the once-impeccable floor as they walked further into the confines of their home.

Ratchet materialized from nowhere, his expression hard and focused as he rushed up to Optimus, already on the job. Silver hands flicked over the moaning seeker, his displaced arm (once again) hanging from his side. A haggard sigh.

"Have to get some of this mud off," grumbled the rough medic, "I can't even put his arm back in place before we get this…junk off."

"Call the others," instructed Prime gently to the young mech, "tell them we found Starscream."

Nodding, the yellow scout fell in line as Optimus proceeded to the nearest washroom. Back to the latrine, once again. The commander was certain, if only Starscream was partially aware, that even having found a way to keep him from getting sick, he still returned to the same place each night. _Frag_.

Ratchet was walking sideways beside the red and blue mech, trying to evaluate the seeker's injuries and not fall over at the same time. He managed well, giving a slight growl when he saw how mangled Starscream's wings were, as the larger mech approached the showers. Hot Shot opened the door for him, talking to Jetfire at the same time as Prime was forced to settle Starscream to his feet. Guiding the wary seeker through the entrance, he allowed the wounded mech to sink to the silver-tiled floor, his legs buckling beneath him. Ratchet remained by the red one's side as Optimus grabbed a nozzle, thankful for Red Alert's foresight into installing hoses. He turned on the water, allowing it to gain to a decent temperature, before returning to Starscream.

The seeker—somewhere between consciousness and oblivion—twitched when Prime began wash away the grime and muck from his frame, but then visibly relaxed again. It was tedious and frustrating (the sticky, thick mud clinging to about every surface it could), but after what seemed like forever, Starscream appeared (for the most part) clean. At the very least, his dislodged arm and bent wings were back to normal; Ratchet could repair them without fretting over whether or not the brown material had gotten into unpleasant places or tight corners. Meanwhile, Starscream had drifted off into a light sleep, optics fluttering open every now and then. The warm water was probably paradise compared to what he'd just been through.

"Alright," said Ratchet, "I need to put his arm back into place."

From his subspace, the medic pulled out a small syringe of sedative—only for a hand to snap out and catch him. Glancing up, Ratchet was met with a resistant ex-Decepticon, using his "good" arm to stop the doctor from giving him any drugs.

"Starscream…this'll help with the pain," started Ratchet, trying too hard to be patient, although it was obvious he was anything but. They couldn't play games like this when it was _stupid_ to refuse his help in the first place; but, he was used to his patients trusting him.

"Just…pop it back in…" returned the seeker nonetheless, teeth clenched.

"I have to mold your wings back anyways—"

"In the med bay, then."

"Starscream—"

"_Please_."

Pleading optics. Trembling fingers.

Consistent pain and trauma aside, the ex-Decepticon's phobia was still dominating his fatigued thoughts. Annoyed and already at the end of the short rope of patience, Ratchet shook Starscream's hand from his wrist and set the syringe down, adjusting himself next to the mech. Taking the lax hand into the medic's own, he looked at Optimus who nodded, sitting on the other side of the red mech. Starscream grabbed a hold of Prime's hand, his expression already in a grimace, as the doctor lifted the seeker's arm. The red mech released a startled cry, pink droplets collecting at the edge of his blue, dazed optics. Ratchet, despite the sharp noise, continued to, gradually (_very_ gradually), swing the red and white arm at an acute angle away from Starscream's chest. The ligaments beneath the disjointed shoulder and arm tightened, the seeker hissing with displeasure, before—

_CLINK._

A twitch, and then Starscream was (finally) down for the count, optics going offline and body slumping against the wall.

"Man, that _bites_," muttered Hot Shot from the doorway, shaking his head. "I remember in training I got a dislocated arm, too. But, you know, not with all of the other injuries."

Ratchet released Starscream's hand and picked up the needle again. "Well, that makes it easier for me. Let's get him to the med bay."

* * *

><p>Flashes. Colors. Voices.<p>

Starscream was only indistinctly mindful of all of them—and yet, swinging back and forth between unconsciousness and just barely getting his optics to open, he couldn't bring himself to care much. All he knew was that he was so very, very tired and just _wanted to sleep slaggit_ and only return to the world of the living when he could actually stand on his own. At some points, there were hands on him, on his wings, fingers interlaced with his own, a touch on his helm. A detached numbness; he knew when the medic was bending his wings back to their original shape, could barely identify the nerves on the verge of _incredible pain_ and _total nothingness_. He should've been thrashing in agony, but he was, instead, laying compliantly on the cold, flat berth.

But it was good…good not to feel pain.

Still, being a soldier (and a Decepticon used to getting the fire beat out of him), his processor ached to know what was going on around him. To see light again, to see details. To be in the middle of this halfway point of illusion and reality was just a little too surreal for his tastes.

That's right. The Mini-Con, too. Surge rustled, an image of a tiny, green and black frame trying to shake themselves of the heavy effects of the sedative flickering behind Starscream's optics. Clinging onto the image, both Mini-Con and Transformer supported each other, becoming more aware by the second. Despite himself, a groan slipped past his lips, optics fluttering as he tried to separate himself from the annoying _fog_ in his head and actually come to his senses.

"…rscream…"

"He's…Hot Shot…hold…"

Hands on his head again. Why did everyone like to touch his helm so much? Someone was pushing his it to the side, a dull throb coursing through the seeker's neck, exposing the vitals there. Vulnerable to pain, to infraction. No, that wasn't good. Focus. Look to the front. But Whoever's hands were stronger, keeping him in place as a small dot pricked the mesh-like "skin" of his throat. Ouch. What the in the pits?

"…ack to sleep…"

"N…no…!" slurred the seeker, hand jutting out to reach for whatever he could. Another hand collapsing around his own. A giant, warm one.

"Everything's going to be okay, Starscream."

He recognized _that_ voice.

It cut clear through the tangled mess called his processor and set a certain amount of relief on the mounting anxiousness. Jetfire. That's right. _Jetfire was good_. He remembered that. And, although there was a clouding, thickening darkness filling his body, Starscream had the strength to tighten his fingers in the shuttle's hold. Let him know the disoriented seeker could hear him. Hoped, in a pitiful sort of way, that Jetfire wouldn't leave him at the behest of whoever else might be messing with things they shouldn't. Because, as memory serves, allowing his tenacious loyalty to blind him left him with three Mini-Cons sparks stuffed inside his own.

That's right. The Mini-Cons. He kept forgetting. The damn drugs, they were just so…and Surge was asleep again, out like a light. Starscream was reminded of a youngling the way the Mini-Con kept behaving. So out of sorts…

Then, there was…

There was the Other One.

The One who'd just woken up.

And, now that Surge had (for the time being) stepped down from the guard post, the Other One was running around unhindered, searching through Starscream's body like he _owned_ the place. He could _almost_ hear its thoughts, which were sparring at best. Strong _legs_ here and wide-span _wings_ there and powerful _thrusters_ over here. Delicious, new territory. He prowled around like something organic, running on instinct rather than the mind of a sentient being. It gave Starscream a reverberating shiver, reminding him needlessly of the younger medic's earlier prognosis all those weeks ago. Transformers weren't organic—they didn't behave like animals, definitely not in the way _this_ Mini-Con was going on about business.

But he was there and he was doing it, and it was absolutely _creepy_.

The Mini-Con sucked in every detail he could as Ratchet continued to repair their shared, broken body, slithering around his tubing and over metal bones. Starscream quaked again in reflex, knowing he'd _never_ grow accustomed to the dark presence in his frame, so long as it existed.

Voices faded in and out of his audio receptors, Jetfire adjusting his grip in the seeker's hand. The Mini-Con noticed this and zipped from Starscream's wing to the physical contact, assessing it as if for the first time. Much like trapped smoke, the dark Mini-Con pressed against the outer walls, eager to be closer to the warmth, to the energy emanating from their white counterpart. Somehow Starscream knew the Other One saw this "Jetfire" as good, too, the Mini-con adapting the seeker's feelings towards the shuttle as his own.

But—it wasn't quite the same.

The feeling was mutual, but the reaction was…_different_.

There was a brand-new sensation crawling up Starscream's circuitry from the small mech's spark, a kind of aching, but not. There was the aching from the aftermath of being punched, or being rejected by someone you trusted—then there was this. This…felt _good_.

Starscream's fingers twitched in Jetfire's grasp, not unlike the other, ongoing small movements the seeker continued to make as Ratchet efficiently patched him up. The shuttle stood, fixed, not separating from the red mech's side until he was sure he could feel safe for Starscream to be alone. No thanks to Blurr's less-than-tactful approach, the ex-Decepticon was once again confined to the med bay, more drugs pumped into him than any (normal) Transformer could take. The Mini-Cons and the extra amount of energon in his system probably had a part in him burning through the sedatives so fast, but he still didn't like it. This whole situation just _sucked_ all the way around, the shuttle feeling both frustrated and helpless at missing the chance to avoid this altogether.

And, of course, there was Blurr.

The second-in-command was already forced to bite back his tongue on several occasions when Optimus and Scavenger had cornered him for answers a couple hours before. Blurr, in his usual stubborn manner, refused point-blank. The infuriating blue mech wouldn't give them any answers, but Jetfire already knew what he'd done—trapped Starscream alone and probably demanded a confession to some crime he hadn't even committed. To make things worse, they couldn't press him any further when Hot Shot had burst in on the conversation, cutting it short when he reported that Starscream was missing.

And, now, here again.

In the frelling med bay, which had been occupied by the seeker more than it should have in the short time he'd been living at the Autobase. Again, no thanks to Blurr.

Jetfire realized his anger wasn't that of a second-in-command, but he couldn't help feeling it anyways. Starscream had gotten a thorough beating from Megatron after refusing to rejoin the Decepticons (again), but probably would've been easily able to hold his own if he hadn't released so much energy earlier. Weakened, alone…he never stood a chance.

As much as Jetfire didn't want to admit it, though, these crappy circumstances really boiled down to him. If he hadn't left Starscream by himself, Blurr wouldn't have appeared and freaked out on the seeker, provoking him to run. So, in the end, the shuttle was more mad at himself than anything. Blurr was just being Blurr—intensely protective of his teammates, and giving no slack when it came to defected Decepticons. Jetfire just hadn't _instilled_ the fact that Starscream was off-limits to this sort of behavior. _Slaggit_.

"Red Alert, put pressure—yes, there. Okay, now, slowly…" murmured Ratchet, optics trained on Starscream's frame intently.

The pair had managed to almost completely straighten out the seeker's wings, returning him to some state of normalcy. Whatever that meant.

"Slowly…"

Starscream's wings trembled involuntarily again, something that all three mechs within the med bay noticed. Jetfire knew it was like a human shiver—although the ex-Decepticon wasn't cold. Maybe he was dreaming.

Ratchet stopped what he was doing to watch the red mech for a moment. Scowling, he said, "That's the _third_ time that's happened."

"A dream?" wondered Jetfire.

Ratchet glanced at him, then back to Starscream. "Maybe."

The door at the corner suddenly _whooshed_ open and a serious-looking Prime appeared, only partway entering the infirmary. Golden optics fell on Jetfire's form before Optimus silently motioned at him to come to the hallway. Mentally sighing and preparing himself for what was coming, the shuttle released Starscream's hand, a little surprised when the seeker's fingers curled into a fist. _Still dreaming_.

Turning, the white Autobot retreated to the corridor, allowing the door to close behind him and approaching his commander. The red and blue mech (who had obviously spoken to Blurr again) crossed his arms and stared at his second for a moment. Despite having faced the toughest of Decepticons in battle, there was nothing quite as humbling as a scrutinizing stare from the Bearer of the Matrix himself.

"Did you know the Mini-Cons had woken up?" asked Optimus finally.

Jetfire's spark sped up. "Sir, I would've told you so, trust me. Anything that I've seen going on, I've _told_ you. Whatever else that's happened you've already seen for yourself."

Prime sighed, letting his hands swing down to rest on his hips. "I know, I know…I can't help but feel like we've _missed_ something."

"Did Starscream say something when you found him?" wondered the shuttle. Inside, he felt a little undermined that Optimus would lose his faith in his second like that, but he also knew this was a very strange situation for all of them. They were running in blind and had nothing to go off of—even Ironhide's state didn't compare to this circus.

"He told me the Mini-Cons, at least one of them, had woken up. When, I'm not sure. Sometime after Ratchet had opened him up," replied his commander, "Blurr interacted with it, I believe. Somehow, the Mini-Con or Starscream took control of Incinerator and told Blurr to kill Starscream."

Startled, Jetfire briefly forgot of _everything_ after those words left Prime's mouth. A dark, disturbed feeling shrouded him—this was getting more complicated by the day. "_What?_"

Optimus sighed and rubbed his optics, visibly noting the shuttle's stunned reaction. "The Mini-Con took over Incinerator and _told_ Blurr to _kill_ Starscream. Blurr described it like…possession. Even though the Mini-Cons can't speak, somehow Incinerator did and not exactly in a…a _friendly_ tune. Perhaps the Mini-Con in Starscream was trying to defend the body they shared by spooking Blurr, in which I might add, it was quite successful."

Mulling for a second, Jetfire recalled how _scared_ Blurr really looked when Incinerator approached him in the hall. It was an expression similar to when young soldiers looked upon battle for the first time in their lives. Disbelief. Horror. It _would_ make sense…although it was an ugly truth.

"What should we do?" asked the white Autobot, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He suddenly felt very tired.

"What I came to ask is that, as Starscream trusts you the most, try to get a better understanding of what's happening on the inside," said Prime softly. "Wait a few days, though. Allow him to regain himself. I need to know what's happening, for the sake of the whole team. Ratchet and I are going to devise a plan to infiltrate the Decepticon base and get the datapads from Hook. If this Mini-Con becomes a…threat…"—the word was said hoarsely—"I need the information from those pads. I can't have Starscream turning on us."

Jetfire knew Optimus was saying that more than just as an objective note. He really _did_ care for the seeker, and watching someone go in and out of the med bay like it was a pit stop probably left a bad taste in his mouth, too. He wanted what was best for his team, whether or not they were (formally) in the ranks. Starscream already felt like he'd been here forever and the shuttle couldn't imagine the base without his obnoxious paint job contrasting against the sleek, silver walls. Even Hot Shot, too, seemed to be relatively fond of him, even if hadn't spent a lot of time with the seeker. Alexis, too. The scariest part was that if Starscream really _did_ go off the deep end, too…or if he lost himself…both the Autobots _and_ the Decepticons would have more to worry about than the war between them. He couldn't begin to imagine what those Mini-Cons were like inside of him, if they were bloodthirsty…or if they were just trying to survive.

"I'll do my best, sir," answered Jetfire, optics flicking to the ground.

"Thank you, Jetfire."

Hot Shot suddenly rounded the corner, a smile spreading across his face when he saw his superiors. "Why such long faces? We got Starscream back, right?" he started, patting both of the larger mechs on the shoulder. "And Blurr's just fine. _We're all fine_. All still alive and well, and able to give Megatron another good pounding, huh?"

Jetfire smirked, rubbing the scout's head. "You have to be _this_ high to give Megahead a pounding, Hot Shot!"

"Hey, screw you, man! We stop growing when we reach _perfection_!" exclaimed the yellow Autobot in return.

The shuttle burst out laughing, shaking his head. "Whatever makes you feel better, short stuff."

Hot Shot growled, plowing into Jetfire's midsection as if to topple him over. The shuttle only laughed again, giving Optimus an _oh-please_ look. The commander's optics smiled, and his second was sure that he was grinning beneath his facemask, too.

"You have to _push_, Hot Shot," jested the white Autobot.

"You're just so…_fat_…that I can't…!" grunted the scout, metal feet digging at the floor. "Give me a…_hand_…Optimus!"

"I think you're doing just fine," chuckled their commander as he leaned back against the wall, one leg propped up beneath him.

Hot Shot's right foot bolted out, then, kicking in between Jetfire's legs and curled around one of his grey feet. The shuttle recognized the move and caught the smaller mech's arm and tugged, forcing the scout to collapse against the second-in-command's frame.

"Augh, _slaggit!_" exclaimed Hot Shot, stepping down _hard_ on Jetfire's foot.

"_Ow,_ you little glitch!" retorted the larger and releasing him from his grasp.

Snickering, the yellow Autobot hightailed it in the opposite direction, disappearing around the corner with a disgruntled, grumbling Jetfire wandering after him.

"You should teach him how to slide tackle," supplied Optimus lifted himself off the wall and they walked together.

"_Primus_, I almost don't want to knowing he'd be sweeping us off our feet every chance he got," returned the white one. "Although seeing the look of bewilderment on any of the Decepticon's faces would be absolutely worth it."

"Particularly Soundwave's," said Prime.

"_Particularly_," agreed Jetfire.

Joking aside, it might not be such a bad idea; Red Alert and Ratchet still had to smooth out all the quirks in Starscream's frame and it would be awhile until they finished. Plus, the rough medic had started to get ornery with the white Autobot getting in the way consistently, more than once giving him an annoyed glower. In the meantime, Jetfire could use a distraction to let loose some pent-up steam after this whole ordeal.

Training with Hot Shot always ended up becoming a spectacle anyway—the scout would try to bring down the shuttle down using all his old tricks. A lot of wrestling and lame jokes. It was a good time for all.

At the same time…

"What about Blurr, is he going to be…?" wondered the second, switching a nervous glance back at the medbay door.

Optimus scratched his chin, folding his other arm across his chest. "Scavenger and I talked to Blurr for the entire time Starscream has been in the med bay. I…_believe_ he understands, now, the situation more than before. He understands Starscream is not the casual Decepticon having up and just left his faction just because he had a small quarrel with his leader. This is more complicated, more painful. He also knows what he did was out of line—we made sure of that."

"I don't want a divided base," said Jetfire.

"You and me both, my friend," murmured Prime. "Blurr…will be alright. Scavenger will make sure of it."

"And Incinerator…?"

"He wouldn't leave Blurr alone until he finally held him. Incinerator hasn't lost his grip since. I think it was an equally scary experience, and since Blurr's calmed down quite a bit…they'll be alright," answered the Autobot leader again.

Jetfire nodded.

_I hope so._

* * *

><p><em>Three days later…<em>

Starscream saw stars.

**You idiot.**

They glimmered in his vision like shattered, solidified spikes of energon.

**We're...both idiots.**

He couldn't feel...anything.

**We've dug our own grave.**

Shuttering his optics closed, he pushed down a painful gulp of nothing.

**And now we're the only ones who can pull each other out.**

Starscream lifted a trembling hand to his throbbing helm, the bleak pain seeming to stretch on and on forever. Opening his optics again, his perception cleared to find the soft fluorescent lights of the medical bay shining down on him. Surge was whirling around in his head, awake and alive and frightened. The seeker had woken up the second Mini-Con...of all the Mini-Cons, the worst. If it had been a second closer, a little more time wasted letting Megatron blabber or Soundwave calmly torture him was all it would've taken.

_Are we going to die, Surge?_

The Mini-Con inside him stopped.

**I dunno.**

Starscream craned his neck, wincing at the sharp jab in his neck. Wires. _Wires frelling everywhere_. Primus. It was like a revolving nightmare; no matter how many times he tried to escape it, he always happened to wake up with snaking tubes and wires plugged into him. The phobia came in like a settling dust, a shudder making his frame quake against the surgical berth.

Head dropping back with a resounding _thunk_, the ex-Decepticon's air systems kicked on, cycling panting breaths to cool his system. He swallowed again. Glancing around, he realized he was alone in the otherwise dark med bay, clean and immaculate as always.

Good. There would be no-one here to stop him.

**What're you doing, Starscream?**

With gritted teeth, the seeker slowly brought his arms up, pushing his upper body into an upright position. The tubes moved with him, falling against his legs as he leaned forward, neon purple tears collecting at the corner of his optics.

**You're going to break something!**

_I gotta...I gotta…_

Primus, he couldn't even finish his thoughts. Rubbing one optic with a metal knuckle, he shook his head, trying to escape the fog of pain and anxiety and the drugs still creeping through his system.

_He's gotta know._

**Who's gotta know what? You're going to be stuck in here even longer, probably **_**with restraints**_** if you leave!**

_I know, but I gotta…_

A third swallow. Pulling his legs to the edge of the berth, Starscream agonizingly slid onto his feet. Releasing a startled cry, his knees bent under the pressure, the rest of his frame screaming back to life. Grabbing the edge of the bed, he steadied his trembling body before he collapsed.

**Starscream!**

_I'm...I'm okay._

Taking a few minutes to recollect himself, Starscream pushed through the burning pain to reach his original intention again. Using the berth for support, the seeker went from the bed to the wall, his legs like rubber as he shakily gimped to the exit. Each step was worse than the last; he wouldn't be able to make it back on his own. But it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered.

_Nothing else matters anymore_.

**Starscream, what are you **_**talking**_** about?**

With pink-stained lips, the ex-Decepticon offered the small 'bot a weak smile. _Surge...you terrified Blurr to protect me—but you didn't hurt him._

Starscream saw an image of tiny, blue optics flicking down. **You...don't sound mad about it anymore.**

_You did what you felt you had to. But this Mini-Con...the Other One…if it had been him instead of you, he would've _killed_ Blurr. I have to...make sure he realizes that no-one is a threat in this base, otherwise…._

Even though the green Mini-Con didn't answer, the seeker knew he understood. So long as Surge was there, the Other One wouldn't get out of control. Even Starscream had the strength to fight him off. But if the dark Mini-Con _did _grab the steering wheel, even for a short time…there was no telling. Honestly, the crimson seeker didn't even want to think about it. But for the nth time in his brief period with the Autobots, they had picked up his sorry aft off the floor and given him a second chance. Protected him. He, in turn, had to protect them…from himself.

With a grunt, Starscream yanked at the couple machines still attached to him, tugging them along as he exited the medical bay and down the long, bare hallway towards the space bridge and control room. What could've only been a matter of Earth-minutes felt like hours in his mind, Surge offering up whatever strength he could, knowing there was only so much.

Despite producing excess energon, his wounds were as grievous as ever. Every crook and wire seemed to ache perpetually, the tinge of energon coating his glossa. His vision was flickering, misting with darkness, even though he'd only managed a matter of meters.

_H...how long have we been…_

**The internal chronometer says three and a half Earth days.**

_I guess this Mini-Con stuff...has its benefits..._

Back in the good ol' Decepticon days, without lasting medics, you could be out for a matter of weeks. Not enough supplies. Not enough personnel. Even with the Autobots, maybe he would've been unconscious longer without the Mini-Cons. Maybe he would've been dead.

**Starscream, your systems are going to offline you if you don't—**

_Surge._

**What?**

_Shut up._

It wasn't like he could make it back to the medbay, as it was, and it was the only thought that stuck when trying to remember why he got up in the first place. He needed to get to…

Somehow, he found himself at the corner of the control room, his machines still squeaking as they rolled behind him like obedient turbo-rats. Cooling systems going into overdrive, the taste of energon more prominent, half of his eyesight gone, Starscream leaned against the wall. The door was open and just a little further, but he needed to take a quick rest. Just a short breem.

_Maybe he's in the control room…_

**Dammit, Starscream…**

"Does anyone hear that?" asked Jetfire inside of the control room. Starscream sensed his spark speed up at the comforting sound of the shuttle's voice, recalling the feeling of his hand laced in the seeker's while he was being repaired.

"I thought that was you, getting _squeaky _in your old age," retorted Hot Shot.

There was a sigh from a third individual. Sounded like Blurr. Hopefully it was Blurr.

"Cute. Since you're so young and strong, go check it out," replied the white shuttle.

The speedster offered a frustrated grunt, but didn't answer as he stood up and metallic footsteps headed to the door. Whatever was left of Starscream's vision was beginning to dissolve, his legs weakening the longer he stood at the corner.

Yellow and orange and grey appeared at the door and glanced his way before Hot Shot physically jumped and exclaimed, "_Starscream?_"

The seeker didn't answer—couldn't, really—as the young Autobot dashed up to him, taking hold of one arm. "What're you doing out of the medbay? How are you even _awake?_"

"The...the Mini…"

Jetfire materialized from nowhere, glancing in between the machines being haphazardly dragged along and Starscream's pained face. His hands were already on the seeker's back, the other going for the front. "Don't talk, just...let's get you back into the medbay before Ratchet sees you and puts you under restraints," he was saying.

"Wait, I gotta…" gasped Starscream, taking another step forward.

At that second, his knees buckled in. Jetfire caught the seeker with ease, bunching him up in his arms along with the other wires and tubes. The ex-Decepticon outreached his hand, hoping and begging that a blue and silver figure would step through the doorway.

"Trust me, Starscream, you don't wanna be stuck in a neckbrace," muttered Hot Shot, shaking his head. "I would know."

"No, you don't..." Starscream swallowed the rock lodged in his throat, trying to croak out the last words.

"You should hurry up," said Blurr in his usual low tone at the doorway. "I know by now Ratchet is sensing a disturbance in the force."

Starscream's sparked briefly stood still before he leaned forward, the details of the hallway and of the sniper himself sharpening.

"I'm sorry, Blurr," he blurted, his faceplates creasing with pain. "I'm so sorry for what happened."

Silence dropped in the hall like an iron ball. The other two near the seeker were quiet and staring at Blurr, wondering how he was going to respond.

"I didn't mean for it to happen..." started the ex-Decepticon, tears already collecting and straining down his grey face. "I didn't want to...I didn't want to...!"

"It's alright," responded the blue Autobot finally, his orange optics glued to his feet, "I understand. I'm, uh..." he scratched his mask, nervous, "I'm sorry too."

The red seeker didn't move for a moment, having thought the whole thing through up until this moment and was now unsure of what to do. To be honest, he didn't expect Blurr to even respond, let alone accept his apology (never mind saying sorry also). So, all he knew was simply nod and bow his head, an odd feeling of weightlessness in his spark.

Without warning, the door down the hallway swept open and out stepped a certain orange and white Autobot. The whole group tensed as Ratchet slowly rotated his gaze in their direction, a dramatic transformation of his expression going from his regular scowl to horrified surprise.

"Ahp, you're screwed," muttered Hot Shot.

"_What in the pits is going on?!_"

* * *

><p>"You should count yourself fortunate," grumbled the ornery medic as he stared darkly at the seeker, "that I don't have a neckbrace that fits your frame."<p>

The ex-Decepticon slurred an intelligible rebuttal, the weight of the drugs bearing down on him worse than the day after high-grade energon.

"Aw, lighten up on him, Ratchet," said Alexis as she puffed up her pillow before plopping back against Starscream's chassis again. "He's alright. Plus, everything's back to normal."

"Stop talking, the movie's about to start," said Rad as he, also, somehow managed to get comfortable leaning against the incapacitated mech's knee.

_I guess I'll be a bed,_ thought the seeker uselessly, too doped to feeling awkward or invaded at the children's presence. Even Carlos was huddled next to Alexis, the seeker seeing past them at the flickering lights against the wall with the help of his own pillow propping up his head. Using a projector, they put on a "movie" where they watched other humans pretending to be other humans about a fake story. It didn't make a lot of sense, but it would supposedly pass the time while Starscream swam around in a sedative-induced stupor between random periods of recharging.

"Jet...fur…" mumbled the exhausted seeker.

Ratchet quirked an optic ridge at him. "Optimus sent him on routine flight patrol. What for?"

Starscream simply shook his head before sleep finally overtook him. The medic was still pondering over the little moment when his sharp audio receptors heard footsteps outside of the medbay. Prime was probably here to check up on the idiot. Finishing with the seeker's IV, Ratchet shut off the lights and wandered out to find, surprise surprise, the Bearer of the Matrix himself. With a frown, he shut the door and approached his friend.

"How is he doing?" Optimus asked, crossing his arms over a massive red chassis.

"He's asleep," replied the orange mech, then paused. "Do you know the two airborne idiots are falling for each other?"

A reflection of a smile shined in Prime's liquid golden optics, obviously showing he'd known for some time now, if not since the beginning. "Of course."

Ratchet huffed. "This is a bad idea, Optimus."

"Why?"

"_Why do you think_, Prime? Starscream isn't exactly _stable_, nor is the rest of this base. Aside from the fact that I've yet to see Autobot insignias instead of Decepticon ones on his wings, the fool is pit-bent on revenge. He's simply going to drag your second-in-command into the mess at best, or at worst Starscream's going to go _back_ to the Decepticons and you're going to have send one of your best soldiers back to Cybertron to waste time dancing with Shockwave," answered the medica stoutly, rubbing the side of his helm.

"I've considered it...but Starscream's not as bent as you might assume," answered the cheeky Commander, which aided in aggravating his friend even more. Placing two hands on the older mech's shoulders, he went on, "Ratchet, listen. I haven't just been _busy_. I've been keeping an objective distance on purpose, just in case what you say actually happens. If anyone is sucking anyone in, Jetfire is pulling in Starscream. I've seen it. It's actually quite intriguing—"

The doctor shrugged off the other's hands. "Intriguing is not part of your vocabulary, Prime—"

"When Jetfire comes down, call him in and see for yourself. The idea is to create ties where Starscream won't _want _to leave. He's making progress. You were there. He apologized to Blurr, which is unheard of if anyone else asked about what happened," chuckled the Commander, once again folding his arms. "He isn't exactly a stranger, Ratchet. You know how he was with the Decepticons—he wanted to be respected and looked up to; he's had to _fight for it _so hard, I doubt he's even had the opportunity to really _love_ someone. Do you want to take that away from him?"

Halting his thoughts, Ratchet glanced away with creased optic ridges.

That point he could not argue about. Maybe part of Starscream's mental instability was that he really had no stability in the first place—how Jetfire would figure into that complicated formula would be something which had to be closely watched. Even though the white shuttle was hot-headed and young and didn't always think things through, Ratchet held a soft spot for him since he'd originally joined the Autobots all those years ago. Starscream, on the other hand, was a piece of work and, if he could help it, Ratchet didn't want the relationship to backfire.

Finally, he settled his old gaze back on Prime. "Whatever happens, you must _not_ let the Decepticons find out."

Optimus sighed as he turned, beginning to walk down the hallway as his friend followed him. "That, dear Ratchet, is a far more difficult task. Megatron will be able to see the smallest details, even in battle; he's a meticulous mech and despite what happened last night, I don't think he's going to stop until he either has Starscream in his hands or either one is dead."

"Have you considered gathering the datapads from Hook?" wondered the orange medic as his fists balled at his sides.

"I have," replied the red and blue mech, "and I've unfortunately I've come to a stand-still."

"Didn't Starscream give the details of the Decepticon base when he initially came here?"

Glancing once at his friend, then back to his path, Prime said, "Yes...everything except for the coordinates for the space bridge."

Ratchet smacked his forehead impulsively. A little habit he'd picked up ever since...well, ever since having to deal with younger mechs. "The idiot wants to go and get himself killed," concluded the doctor.

"I think he wants to kill Megatron, actually," returned the Commander, taking a gander into the control room. Blurr was stuck with Scavenger (again), probably going through every checklist and motion possible to keep things up-to-spec. The other three—Jetfire, Red Alert and Hot Shot were out on morning patrols.

"He's an idiot," retorted Ratchet again as he shook his head, "he should be going after _Hook_, if anyone. Killing Megatron doesn't necessarily mean Hook won't disappear from the shadows, and if he thinks _Megatron_ is obsessive about him, then he's going to find out what _obsessive _really means. Killing Hook would stop everything since no other medic—literally, _none_—would either be willing to or know how to continue on the experiment."

"Yes, you're right," murmured Prime as he continued along, slowly reaching his office. Then he stopped and looked directly at his medic, his shining optics soft. "Though I imagine Megatron is less frightening."

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for the long chapter again! I needed to get in these tidbits for what's going to happen in the future. And sorry about the long update! Work is picking up like crazy and I'm writing a book as well, so this fic is like my break from that.

Thank you for reading!


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